Little Boots & Biker Boy
by CiaraShayee
Summary: Under the Texas sun, bicycle tracks follow booted footprints through the dirt. A copper-haired biker boy would tail the owner of those little boots to the ends of the Earth if only she'd ask him to. He just can't help but dream of a day when she'll follow him, instead. A wedding, some picnic chairs, and an old friend might just be the nudge she needs.
1. Chapter 1

**I get married on Saturday, so I guess you could say weddings have been on my mind (and taking over my life!). This plot bunny has been loitering around for months now and I've finally managed to wrap it up this week. Woo! I'm working on Dandelions between dress fittings, making favours, and hand-writing a hundred place cards, so the next chapter should be up soon.**

**As for this baby, it's made up of five parts. This is posting now, part two will be later today (Thursday aft/eve.), then both three and four will post Friday morning and afternoon respectively. I hope you enjoy this little story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.**

**Big thank you to my wonderful friend and beta, **annaharding**, for being her brilliant self and booming through the edits for me. I've tinkered since she looked it over so any mistakes left here are all mine. And as always, the standard disclaimer applies. I don't own these characters, I just get to play with them.**

**Editing to add a warning as I've been told I need to—this story will start off non-canon...but that doesn't mean it'll stay that way ;) ***

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**Summary: **Under the Texas sun, bicycle tracks follow booted footprints through the dirt. A copper-haired biker boy would tail the owner of those little boots to the ends of the Earth if only she'd ask him to. He just can't help but dream of a day when she'll follow him, instead.

**Little Boots & Biker Boy**

**LITTLE BOOTS**

Sneaking out was wrong—Isabella knew that.

But as her momma wrangled her eight-year-old sister into the bathroom, and her daddy barked orders down the phone at the guys setting up the venue, Isabella slid her feet into her worn-soft Dan Posts and climbed out the window, shimmying down the porch roof before catching her feet on the top of the trellis. She'd done this a thousand times, so she knew the exact spot to grasp the ledge to be able to lower herself to the porch railing and then hop down to the ground.

Breathing a big sigh of relief, she used the scrunchie around her wrist to restrain her mass of chocolate curls before tipping her face back to the sun, just for a moment. With her eyes closed and the warm rays shining on her cheeks, she could almost pretend that she was sixteen again. Carelessly carefree with no expectations on her shoulders other than to keep up with her homework, complete her chores before supper, and make sure she was home before curfew.

A clatter from the bathroom window above snapped her out of it; Isabella glanced left and right before hopping on the bicycle leaning against the porch steps. She paused to tuck her skirt under her legs, then set off down the street toward her favorite place in the world.

Stepping into the stables always made Isabella feel at home. It had ever since the first day Papaw Swan carried her down there on his shoulders and introduced her to Sparks—the first horse she'd ever fallen in love with.

"Hey, handsome," she breathed, the familiar scents of straw and horses invading her senses as Isabella reached for the nose that always stretched over the stall door in search of her voice. Sparks was nineteen years old now; the most handsome thoroughbred in all of Texas. His gleaming bay coat shone in the dappled sunlight sneaking through the tree outside the window. He whickered, bumping her hand to make sure she knew he wanted more than just pets.

Grinning, she stretched up on her toes and pressed a kiss to the white star between his gentle brown eyes.

"How're you doin', big guy?"

There was no better way to ease frayed nerves than spending time with horses. Isabella managed to hide out with Sparks for a little over an hour before she heard the clomping of feet on the planks in the walkway.

"Sissy? Are you in here?"

Rolling her eyes—of course, her momma would send in the big guns—Isabella stood up and leaned over the stall door. Her baby sister flashed her a gap-toothed grin. "There you are! Momma sent me to come get you."

"All right, Rosie. I'm comin.'" Turning to Sparks, she stroked his soft nose and gave him a scratch in his favorite spot—right below his ear. "I'll see you later, handsome. You be good, you hear?"

He whickered, shuffling his hooves, and rubbed his head against her chest to request another ear scratch. She obliged him, shooting Rosalie a tongue-out scowl when she huffed and stamped her foot.

"Come _on,_ Bell! I've gotta get all gussied up before the weddin'."

_You had to remind me._

With one last pat to Sparks' rump, Isabella let herself out of his stall and followed Rosalie out of the stables into the sunlight. It was nearing nine a.m. now, the sun climbing higher and higher in the sky. By noon, it was sure to be one of the hottest days of the year—so far. Even though they were only in mid-June, they were experiencing a particularly hot summer. The unseasonable Texas heat had Isabella's baby-fine hair curling around her face and her loose summer dress clinging just a little tighter.

"Eric says he's gonna be sweatin' buckets when Libby makes him get all fancy."

Isabella snorted, scooping her bike from the grass to push it home. "I think he's right. It's hotter than Daddy's Kickin' It Chili already."

Charles Swan's Kickin' It Chilli was legendary in their little part of Southeast Texas. It was his speciality—and the only thing he knew how to cook without the help of his wife or daughters. It packed a mean punch and showed up the men who'd gotten too big for their britches at the church's Christmas potluck each year.

Skipping alongside her, Rosalie filled Isabella in on everything she'd missed back at the house while she was visiting Sparks.

"Meemaw and Papaw are at our house, and Libby, Eric, and Miss Sarah—"

"Miss Sarah is doing our hair," Isabella reminded her.

"Right," Rosalie nodded, her bouncy blonde curls falling in her face. She swiped them back behind her ears. "And Mr. Clearwater is gonna drive us to the wedding in his fancy car. Eric's helpin' him wash it so it's all shiny and purty."

As they turned off the beaten track leading down to the stables, stepping onto their street, Isabella winced.

"Momma, I found her!" Rosalie sang, running ahead with her curls flying in her wake.

Renee was smiling when she turned away from her conversation, but Isabella could see the glint of disapproval in her blue eyes. "Thank you, sweet pea. Run along inside, please."

"Hi, Mrs. Cullen! Bye, Mrs. Cullen!" The screen door clapped shut behind Rosalie; Renee shook her head with a long-suffering sigh just as Isabella reached her and Esme Cullen, their neighbor from across the street.

"She's adorable, Renee. Utterly precious," Esme laughed before turning her attention to Isabella. "Isabella, honey, how are you doing this morning? Did you get a good night's sleep?"

_Nope. Not even close. _"I did, thank you. I slept like a baby."

Esme's delighted expression didn't waver, but there was something there...something that told Isabella she didn't fully believe her. "Well, that's great! Every girl needs a good night's sleep the night before a wedding—especially her own!"

Renee and Esme shared a laugh while Isabella tried to keep her smile from slipping. "Well, I'd better get inside and start getting ready. I'll see you later, Mrs. Cullen."

"It's 'Esme,' honey. I've been tellin' you that since you were knee high to a grasshopper."

Isabella nodded, her small smile bashful. Esme had lived across the street for as long as she could remember. She and her husband, Carlisle, had a son the same age as Isabella's year-older sister, Liberty. When they were all little, Esme had often crossed the street with Edward and sat drinking sweet tea on the back porch while Isabella, Liberty, Edward, and Alice—Isabella's year-younger sister—played in the yard. When they were older, playdates moved from the Swans' backyard to the creek, where the high school kids raced their parents' boats and floated on inner tubes.

It was there, after a few too many warm beers and with Liberty egging her on, that Isabella had her first kiss and her first beer, all in the same night.

"Enjoy your last morning as a free woman, and I'll see you later." Esme pulled Isabella into a tight, motherly hug before watching as she turned the bicycle and headed up the path toward the house.

The Swan home was a hive of frenzied activity. The formal sitting room was stacked full of gifts; they'd been pouring in for the last week. The dining table was buried under makeup and hair supplies, seeing as that was where Sarah was getting the bridesmaids ready, and the family room was full of people.

"Ah, there's my darling Bell."

"Papaw!" Isabella managed a genuine smile for Papaw Swan.

He stroked his mustache and shook his head before heaving himself out of the armchair to cross the room. Taking Isabella's hands, he offered her a wry grin. "How's our fella doin'?"

"He's right as rain, Papaw. I left him with some oats and a couple of carrots."

"I'm sure he liked that. When your mother said you'd gone and disappeared, I had a feeling you'd be visitin' our Sparks."

"I couldn't not. I haven't had a chance to spend much time with him lately."

"I should think not! You've been far too busy to prioritize a horse." Meemaw Swan appeared like a whirling dervish. She didn't look anywhere close to her sixty-five years as she swept Isabella up in her arms before tugging her toward the stairs. "Come on, honey pie. Let's wash the horse stink off of you. Honestly—only a grandchild of Ethan's would run off in the middle of her wedding preparations to spend time with a horse."

Smirking, Isabella paused on the upstairs landing to hug her meemaw. She was a whirlwind and likely to drive her crazy over the course of the day, but Isabella couldn't help but appreciate her presence. "I'm glad you're here, Meemaw."

"Oh…" Meemaw cradled her granddaughter's face between her small, wrinkled hands. Her brown eyes—Isabella's eyes—smiled. "I'm glad, too, honey pie. Now, let's pop you in the shower. We've got a few hours, so there's no rush, but there's no time like the present."

Isabella did as she was told and allowed herself to be manhandled into the bathroom. Meemaw turned on the shower and gave her a kiss on the cheek before disappearing back downstairs to hurry everyone else along.

As she stripped off and stepped under the cool spray, Isabella couldn't stop the heavy sigh that wracked her petite frame.

_In just a handful of hours, I'll be Mrs. Michael Stanley-Newton, Junior._

Her stomach twisted.

Everything was ready.

Her designer wedding gown—which hung in its bag in her parents' bedroom down the hall. She'd been poked, prodded, and had umpteen fittings to make sure it fit exactly right.

The jewelry. She had a stunning set of sapphire and diamond earrings courtesy of her three sisters, Liberty, Alice, and Rosalie. They matched the sapphire pendant necklace she wore for every special occasion since she received it on her sweet sixteen. They also matched the custom, white satin heels she'd wear under her gown—the sapphires a perfect color match to the soles.

The venue, which, although Isabella hadn't seen it dressed up, was perfection—according to her momma and Jessica Stanley-Newton, her soon-to-be mother-in-law. They, along with the venue dressers, spent most of the previous day ensuring that every little detail was perfect. Much to everyone's delight, Michael and Isabella had agreed to be wed at Ashton Gardens with three hundred family members, friends, and Texas elite watching.

Secretly, Isabella wished they could get married outside on a sandy beach somewhere, a few members of their families and close friends watching, like she'd always dreamed. Instead, they would become Mr. and Mrs. just outside Houston with hundreds of people staring at them.

Michael's father, Michael Senior, was a senator, so there were a lot of important people on the guest list. Three hundred people had been invited. As far as Isabella knew, not one person had RSVP'd that they weren't coming. Truthfully, she didn't even know _who_ had been invited. She'd given her mother a list of 'must haves' and left the rest to her and Jessica.

_I wonder if…no. He always said he'd never come back. I bet he didn't even respond to the invite._

After spending a little too long in the shower, Isabella wrapped herself and her hair in soft towels, stepping out into the bedroom to find her momma and oldest sister waiting.

"_Finally_," Liberty winked, rising to guide her sister straight to the vanity in the corner. She hesitated for a moment, wincing and touching her bump before smiling brightly and waving off her sister's concern. "Just Braxton Hicks, that's all. I thought I was gonna have to bust in and drag you out here."

"No," Isabella sighed. "The water was just lovely after the heat outside."

"Preachin' to the choir, sister dearest. You try bein' eight months pregnant in this heat."

Isabella reached back, giving her niece or nephew a pat. "Jamie's still hangin' in there, huh?"

"The baby could be a girl, you know," Renee said brightly. She still hadn't gotten her head around the unisex name Liberty and Eric had chosen. She was pushing for a family name, while Liberty and Eric were more fond of the idea of giving their unborn child a name of their own—one they didn't have to share, as it were.

Liberty shot Isabella a wink in the mirror as she unravelled her hair from its towel. "And if the baby _is_ a girl, she'll still be called 'Jamie,' Momma."

"Jamie is a _boy's_ name, Liberty—" Renee began, shaking her head with a soft laugh when Liberty sighed pointedly. "All right, all right. I won't nag. Not today." She joined her daughters at the vanity and ran her fingers through Isabella's wet hair. "Not on my sweet Isabella's special day."

Liberty set about drying and brushing the kinks out of Isabella's hair while Renee fussed over the bridesmaid dresses hanging from the curtain rail. Sarah—one of Michael's cousins—would be taking over with her hair once she was done fixing up Alice and Mia, the bridesmaids, but Liberty had offered to help get Isabella's hair ready for styling. Tilly and Mollie, Isabella's second cousins as well as her flower girls, would be delivered to Ashton Gardens by their parents, already dressed in their sweet, pale yellow primrose dresses. Four and five years old respectively, they didn't need any fancy hairstyles or makeup.

While her momma and sister were preoccupied, Isabella gazed out of the window and let her mind wander.

As a teenager, she'd always pictured herself having a storybook romance.

She'd meet her true love in high school, just like her parents. He'd stutter as he introduced himself to her father on the front porch after their first date at the movies, and she'd blush when she met his momma and daddy for the first time. They'd go to prom together, his tie matching her gown, and her daddy would make sure his shotgun was sitting on the table when he came to collect her.

They'd go off to college together and argue with their parents over being allowed to get their own apartment rather than rooming in the dorms. After the first year, their parents would see they were sensible and cave to their requests.

Upon their return from college, he would ask her daddy's permission to propose and do it in some romantic way that swept her off her feet. She'd say 'yes' and their mommas would cry with joy.

They'd be married on a glorious beach with sand between their toes and their loved ones watching. Her momma would cry into her daddy's handkerchief while he tried to hold it together.

And then, they'd move into a cutesy home of their own with enough room for a few youngins and maybe a little land, so she could have Sparks closer. Her husband would have a good job, maybe with her daddy at Swan Hotels, and she'd use her teaching certificate to teach kindergarteners.

It would have been perfect. She had it all mapped out.

Then, Michael Stanley-Newton happened.

He was the older brother of one of her classmates. It was the summer of 2013—Isabella was fifteen, and Michael had just turned eighteen. She spent her days trying to persuade her momma and daddy that she was old enough to follow Liberty to the creek and her evenings glorying in the freedom of knowing they'd placed their trust in her.

The day Michael showed up to collect Georgia for dinner with their parents, Isabella thought her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. He hadn't noticed her, the heart-eyed fifteen-year-old, of course. But she remembered him, and made it her mission to help him see her.

Over the course of a few summers, she was successful. When her eighteenth birthday rolled around, Michael asked Isabella on their first date. His family, and hers, were delighted by their relationship. Michael Senior and Charles were old friends, having attended high-school together. The partnership between a senator and the man responsible for the largest chain of independent hotels to come out of Texas was a prosperous one; their children's relationship could only strengthen that partnership.

At the same time, the death of Renee's father put a halt on Isabella's college plans. She gave up her place and her dorm room to remain at home and support her mother through her loss. Michael encouraged her to remain in Southeast Texas, pointing out that she didn't _need _to study when he would be going into business with Charles once he'd completed his business degree—the insinuation that she'd be a housewife while he worked went over her head at the time, but began to dawn on her as the weeks passed.

Still, she knew that whatever she did, Michael would provide her with a comfortable life. He was safe and intelligent; she'd never need to worry about a thing with him by her side. Besides, there was still time for college.

The day after Isabella's twentieth birthday, Michael took the next step in solidifying their union. On vacation in Florida with Liberty and Eric, he got down on one knee and asked her to become Mrs. Stanley-Newton.

Her plans, although skewed, were finally coming to fruition—Isabella accepted and excitedly called her parents to share the news. Charles and Renee were overjoyed. They, along with Michael Senior and Jessica, threw an extravagant engagement party for the pair when they arrived home a week later. Isabella was swept up in their excitement, despite how railroaded she felt when it was decided that they would be married before her twenty-first birthday. She would have just nine months to plan and get used to the idea of her wedding coming before her college degree.

Now, nine months on, she was just hours away from marrying Michael and she still didn't truly know how she felt about it all.

Dragging her gaze away from the cotton candy clouds drifting across a cornflower blue sky, Isabella peered at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn't see herself. Not really. She looked far older than her tender twenty years, and felt it, to boot.

Soon, Sarah arrived to begin the laborious process of turning Isabella into a bride. Renee disappeared into the bathroom to get herself showered while Sarah spread her makeup supplies across the vanity, chatting away to Liberty as she began applying Isabella's makeup. Aghast at the vast array of powders and brushes Sarah had brought, Isabella murmured, "Um, I thought I was just having a simple, natural look."

As Liberty stepped out of the room, Sarah tittered. "It's your wedding day, Isabella. Don't you want to look fabulous for Michael? Just trust me; when I'm done with you, you'll look beautiful."

Chewing her lip, Isabella nodded and released a quiet sigh. There was no use arguing with a Stanley-Newton unless you wanted to lose.

Slowly but surely, Isabella watched herself transform into a woman she didn't recognize. She stared into her own eyes and sucked in a deep breath, wondering if this was who she was to become now that she was so close to becoming Mrs. Stanley-Newton.

A mannequin for people to style. Arm candy for Michael at the various events he dragged her to. In the last nine months alone, as his fiancée, she'd had to plaster a smile on her face and stand meekly at his side for at least one big event a month—the senator ball, the carnival Charles sponsored, the wedding of one of Michael's distant cousins…

And throughout them all, she'd been reminded that her participation was unnecessary—just her presence was required. A pretty face on the arm of the senator's son.

_Is that truly all I am to become? Mrs. Isabella Stanley-Newton...a carbon copy of Michael's bossy-behind-closed-doors but demure-in-public mother?_

As she watched the face of a stranger take her place in the mirror, Isabella's heavy heart told her that it was.

**~ oOo ~**

"Rosalie Lillian, I don't like your tone! You're gettin' a little too big for your britches, Miss Ma'am."

"Sorry, Momma," Rosalie chimed, skipping back to her mother's side. Her curls had been tamed and fastened to the sides of her head with pretty white clips, a primrose ribbon twisted through the ponytail hanging down her back. She'd been wrangled out of her overalls into her white bridesmaid dress; Isabella chewed her lip and wondered if white was the best choice for a child who seemed to attract dirt.

She stood inside, wringing her hands and peering out at the chaos through the screen door.

Renee was attempting to organize everybody while they waited for the car to arrive to take them to the wedding. The sun bounced off the windshield as Mr. Clearwater's son, Embry, pulled into the drive. Isabella watched as Rosalie, Sarah, Mia, and Alice climbed into the vintage vehicle. Renee reminded them to go straight to the bridal suite at the venue before closing the door and waving them off. Papaw and Meemaw were next to depart, climbing into his beloved Bentley.

"Oh, Bell."

Isabella spun at the sound of her daddy's voice.

He was grinning in the arch between the foyer and the family room, his mustache twitching as he adjusted his smart black Stetson. "You look beautiful, honey," he croaked. "A proper young lady, if ever I saw one."

"Thank you, Daddy."

Overwhelmed by the myriad of emotions tearing her insides to ribbons, Isabella hitched up her skirts and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his suit-clad shoulders as she exhaled a shaky sigh. Her heart pounded as she pulled back to peer up at him; their eyes were equally watery, although for different reasons.

"I've got one last gift for you."

"Daddy...you shouldn't have."

He winked and delved into his suit pocket, pulling out a flat, black square box. "This belonged to Momma's momma. Granny Higginbotham wore it on her wedding day, and your momma wore it when we got married."

Renee entered through the front door just as Isabella opened the box and gasped at the contents. A beautiful silver comb set with sapphires and a cluster of tiny diamonds shone in the light pouring through the windows.

Blinking back her tears, Isabella noticed that her hands were shaking. "Oh...it's gorgeous!" she breathed.

"Do you really like it? We thought it would match all your other accessories. And it can be your 'something borrowed,' as well as your 'something old,'" Renee told her with a teary-eyed smile as she removed the comb from the box and carefully slid it into place in Isabella's hair.

Isabella managed a weak upwards curl of her lips as she turned and looked at herself in the full-length mirror for the first time. Sarah, although bossy, had worked wonders with her hair. Her usually curly brown mane was straight as could be and arranged in a neat chignon—her veil flowed down her back from where it was clipped to the hair at her nape. Still, as lovely and tidy as it was, Isabella felt a little uncomfortable. She'd always disliked having her hair pinned in place. She preferred it free around her shoulders. And objectively, Isabella agreed that combined with her new hairstyle, her makeup _did _look pretty.

It just wasn't _her_.

Her dark eyes were ringed with eyeliner and her lashes, laden with mascara, felt heavy every time she blinked. Her often-flushed cheeks were artificially pink with blusher, her natural, sun-kissed glow lightened by the powders Sarah had applied without explaining their purpose. Isabella wished she'd listened more when Liberty tried to teach her about makeup as a preteen. Her lips were shiny and sticky, stained a berry pink that shocked Isabella every time she caught her reflection.

It was disconcerting; looking in the mirror only to find a stranger staring back at her.

Isabella's eyes trailed down, to her gown. It really was beautiful—as it should be, as much money as her daddy spent on it. It had a demure, sweetheart neckline, a pale primrose yellow sash to cinch in her waist, and delicate lace embroidery trailing down to the hem. She couldn't see it, but the corset back had been laced up tight, the sash tied in a neat bow. Everything was just-so.

"Gosh, Charles. When did our little girl get so grown up?"

"I really don't know, Rae." Charles looped an arm around his wife's shoulders, both of them impeccably dressed for the occasion—Charles in his smart gray suit and shiny black dress shoes, Renee in a primrose yellow, cowl-neck gown and matching headband with a large flower on one side.

Secretly, Isabella thought the headpiece was overkill, but she opted to keep her mouth shut.

"_Knock, knock._"

The Swans turned as one, finding Mr. Clearwater's toothless grin and smiling eyes at the door.

Charles stepped outside to shake his hand while Renee took her daughter's hands. "Are you ready, sweetheart?"

Isabella sucked in a breath through her teeth, knowing the smile on her face wasn't quite believable when Renee narrowed her eyebrows. "A little nervous," she admitted. "There's gonna be a lot of people there."

Squeezing her hands, Renee's expression softened. "Oh, sweetheart. You'll be just fine."

"I know," Isabella lied.

**~ oOo ~**

The drive to Ashton Gardens was short, but it was long enough for Isabella to realize that it was becoming difficult to take a full breath.

Charles sat to her left, Renee to her right, and Mr. Clearwater filled the ride with inane chatter about his son's pig farm and his daughter's new baby.

Isabella twisted her engagement ring around her finger, letting the rays of light refracting off the diamond hypnotize her out of the looming panic attack. It was stunning—a princess cut diamond with smaller diamonds set all the way around the band. It didn't initially fit when Michael proposed, so Isabella had waited two months for the band to be resized before she could show it off.

It didn't feel real that in just over an hour, it would have company. The simple, white gold wedding band she'd picked out would leave it free to shine and monopolize everyone's attention.

Rolling to a stop outside Ashton Gardens, Isabella tried to fill her lungs and winced when even a deep breath didn't satisfy her need for oxygen. Mr. Clearwater opened the door and helped Renee out into the bright midday sun, then he offered his weathered hand to Isabella. She took it with a whispered "thank you" and stepped out on shaky legs, thankful for her skirts as they hid the way her knees trembled.

Renee and Charles led Isabella into the foyer; the giggles of Rosalie, Tilly, and Mollie could be heard thanks to the open door between the foyer and the bridal preparation room. However, Isabella couldn't help but stare at the heavy oak doors straight ahead—the doors leading into the chapel. Three hundred people were waiting on the other side. Three hundred sets of eyes waiting to stare at her as she walked down the aisle; toward Michael, toward her future.

A future she was increasingly unsure she was cut out for.

"Charles! Your daughter seems to think using petals to make spitballs is appropriate!"

Charles snorted a laugh. "I'll be right back, honey. Wait right here."

"Okay, Daddy," Isabella almost panted. She tugged at the front of her dress ineffectively, hitching up her skirts and stepping back out onto the front steps. The fresh air helped, but only a little. It was too warm out to provide any kind of real relief to the heat spreading through Isabella's veins as she sucked in breaths through her nose, attempting to clear her foggy head.

"Come on, Bell. Pull yourself together," she whispered. Black spots began to dance in the corners of her eyes and the sun rolled across the sky as a fierce roar blocked out the sounds of her father reprimanding Rosalie inside.

She'd never fainted before, but Isabella was abruptly aware that it was about to happen. She felt her legs give out and vaguely registered a figure coming towards her as the floor rushed up to greet her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two big things to address- firstly, thank you SO MUCH to all of you for your wonderful reviews and well-wishes for the wedding which is now TOMORROW. EEK! You're all too kind. I've been AWOL for a while with zero motivation to write due to some RL stuff, so to have such a lovely welcome back really lifted this downtrodden writer's spirits.**

**And the second thing- a helpful GR brought to my attention a few similarities between this story and a fic written by a good friend of mine, HighlanderPrincess. I'm mortified, obviously, but I can hand-on-heart say that I'd never read Rodeo Nights before I read that guest review this evening (although it's been on my neglected TBR list for months). I've spoken to HighlanderPrincess and she's assured me that she's not upset and it's fine for me to continue posting, so I will. Again, I want to reiterate that I had no idea as to the plot of Rodeo Nights. If I had, I never would have set LB&BB where I did, or I wouldn't have written it at all. Huge thanks go to her for being so gracious about my faux pas, and if you haven't checked out her stories yet, go do it. She's a beyond-fabulous writer and a brilliant person, to boot.**

**Big thanks as always to **annaharding** for her hard work beta'ing this. I did tinker a fair bit after she looked this over, so any mistakes are all mine, and the standard disclaimer applies.**

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**Little Boots ****& Biker Boy**

**BIKER BOY**

There was nothing like the roar of a great engine to soothe the soul.

Well, not in Edward's mind, anyways.

He hummed, speeding up slightly when he caught a glimpse of his watch at a red light and realized he was gonna get a clap 'round the ear from his momma for being late if he didn't hurry his ass up. Her parting words from the group call with him and his brother last night rang in his mind.

"_Now, the wedding is at _noon_, boys. _Noon_. Nobody had better show up late, all right? That means you, Edward, sweetie."_

He'd been a bit offended at the time—although a smoke and a beer in his motel room had soothed the sting—but now he understood her warning. He was definitely pushing it.

As he slinked through the lines of traffic, familiar streets faded through the visor of his helmet, he could feel eyes on him. The bike attracted enough attention on its own, but everyone knew who he was.

The prodigal son has returned.

_That's right, fuckers. The best Cullen brother is back._

It had been...fuck. Had it really been three years?

Edward drummed his fingers on his knees at a stop sign, willing the little old lady to cross faster before tearing off at a speed he knew would get him a second clobber 'round the ear if his momma saw it.

Leaving Houston, leaving Texas, was always his plan. Coming back...not so much. He missed his folks and his brother, sure, but they visited him. He hadn't needed to come back to this place since he ditched the last day of high school, shouldered his backpack, and took off on his beloved Harley. He hadn't looked back, not even once. Nothing and nobody could have stopped him.

_Well, maybe one person…_

Under his helmet, Edward scowled. Today was proof that the one person whose opinion he might've cared about was moot. She was both the reason he'd vowed to stay away for good and the reason he'd come back.

By the time he pulled up outside his childhood home and tugged off his helmet, Edward had his emotions in check. He promised himself that he wouldn't cause a scene and snatched the spare key from the porch roof before trudging inside, remembering to kick off his boots before trampling dirt and God knows what else all over Esme's clean floors.

"Momma? Pa? Em?"

_Silence._

"Shit." Raking a hand through his sweaty helmet-hair, Edward glanced at himself in the mirror in the hall. "Fuck. Momma will kill me if I go like this."

He Google Map searched the prissy venue his momma WhatsApp'd him, deciding there was no way he could show up to a wedding looking like he did—not without getting his ass handed to him by his momma in front of a whole bunch of people, anyway. He dumped his rucksack on the floor of his childhood bedroom, jumping in the shower to wash off the grime accumulated during three days of cross-country driving. He'd stopped a bunch of times, but never for more than a few hours shut-eye and to shovel some grub down his throat. His stomach rumbled, already anticipating his momma's fried chicken and mashed taters. Nobody made fried chicken and taters like Esme Cullen.

Fresh from the shower and clasping a towel around his waist, he jogged back downstairs and hunted down the iron. Forgoing the jacket even though he knew his father would bitch about it, he haphazardly ironed a white shirt he grabbed at a Walmart on the way into town, then fumbled with a navy tie until it somewhat resembled a decent knot.

"Ow, holy fuck!" he hissed, hopping up and down the hallway nursing his sore, stubbed toes as he tried to pull on a pair of dress pants Emmett left out for him. They were about a size too small, the lanky fucker obviously even slimmer than he had been when Edward lived with him and had to borrow his fancy duds for special occasions, because he refused to get his own.

By the time he rushed back out to his bike, he didn't have time to care that his hair was still a little damp and the socks he'd pulled from his rucksack didn't match—one bearing Rick and Morty, the other red and blue striped. Nobody would see 'em, anyway, he reasoned. His Dan Posts covered them up nicely.

Climbing back onto his bike, Edward took a moment to revel in the rumble of the engine as he started it up, the satisfying crunch of gravel under his tires as he peeled away from the porch stirring warmth in the pit of his stomach. He'd always loved being on two wheels. Something about the air rushing around his body and the feel of a powerful engine beneath him called to his psyche. He wasn't at home unless he was flying through the streets with the wind hitting his chest and the tires eating up the miles. Even now, as he headed toward something as exciting as his own execution, Edward couldn't help but enjoy the vibrations of the bike under him and the appreciative looks being shot his way—guys admiring the bike, girls admiring the rider.

_The biker boy._

Shaking off the old nickname, he concentrated on remembering the directions to the..._what was it called? _Ashcroft..._no_...Ashton Gardens? Somethin' like that.

When he saw the place signposted, he began to relax. Turning onto the long track leading to the pretentious-as-fuck venue the bride and groom had picked out, Edward frowned.

_The fuck?_

It looked like someone had vomited a huge amount of puffy meringue on the front step of the Church-type building. As he got closer, a lead weight dropped into his stomach and he realized…

_Fuck, Little Boots._

Skidding to a stop, he ripped his helmet off and tossed it on the grass, barely managing to stop himself from letting the bike drop. Kicking up the stand, he managed to slide one hand under Isabella's head and wrap the other arm around her waist before she hit the deck. He didn't have time to shout for someone before her eyes were fluttering open again and she released a low, miserable groan.

"_Oh, God..._what happened?" She wriggled out of his arms; he carefully released her, leaving his hands nearby in case she took another tumble.

Smirking and shaking his head, he murmured, "I think you fainted, Little Boots."

"_Little_...Biker Boy!"

Edward chuckled as Isabella leapt into his arms; he swung her around, giving her one last squeeze before setting her back on her feet. _Fuck, she smells good. It's her_—_it's really her, my Little Boots._

Beaming up at him like he hung the moon and all the stars, Isabella squealed, "You're back!"

She made his heart hurt. "Well, of course. D'you think Momma would have forgiven me if I didn't come back for the wedding of the century?"

He stifled a frown as Isabella ducked her head and visibly swallowed hard.

"Are you okay? Are you still feeling faint? Maybe swinging you around wasn't a great idea…"

"No, no. I'm fine. Really." Meeting his eyes again, Edward was thrown back to a time when he'd thought he'd be standing in front of her wearing a suit, her in a white dress, but in very different circumstances.

For starters, she'd have known he was coming what with him bein' the groom and all.

"Sorry, Bell. Rosie was...Edward, son, is that you?"

Edward's eyes slid away from Isabella's face, finding Mr. Swan over her shoulder. He plastered a grin he didn't feel onto his face and stretched out a hand to shake the one he was offering.

"Yes, Sir. Sorry I was late."

Mr. Swan shook his head and smiled like the proud papa he was. "No problem, son. You're just in time." Turning to his daughter, he offered his arm. "Are you ready, Bell?"

As he glanced down at Isabella and saw her visibly steel herself, Edward wanted to make her wait. He wanted to question her and find out why she looked like she was going to _her _execution now.

As the foolish fuck who'd loved her every day for their entire lives, Edward had every right to feel like he was heading for the hangman's noose. Isabella, the _bride_, should definitely not look like that.

"I'm ready, Daddy."

"Little Boots, I…"

Mr. Swan and Isabella both peered at him. Mr. Swan's eyes were gently questioning; a little confused, too, maybe. Isabella's screamed for him to keep quiet. Why, he didn't know. But he planned to find out.

"Good luck. I'll see you in a bit."

The relief shone in her beautiful chocolate eyes, but he thought he also saw…

No. It wasn't disappointment. He knew it was his dumb, lovesick heart trying to get him into trouble again.

Edward hated himself, but he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her soft cheek before stalking inside.

From a pew in the back row of the weird-ass building—it wasn't a church, but it wasn't a regular building either—Edward stood to watch a bunch of girls walk up the aisle. Despite his churning gut, he couldn't help but grin as he spotted Rosalie among them, her confidence outshining even the adult bridesmaids. He barely recognized Alice; she'd cut her long hair into a pixie cut since he left and dyed the ends blue. A smirk curled his lips when he spotted Liberty making her way up the aisle last. She looked like she'd swallowed a beach ball, but she still rocked the dress. Beauty ran in the Swan family, that was for sure.

_But nobody matches up to Little Boots._

Edward's heart slammed in his chest as she and her father appeared in the big double doors. He couldn't hear the cheesy music or the hushed murmurs of appreciation from the rest of the congregation. He didn't hear Rosalie haughtily remind her momma that her daddy promised her a sucker if she didn't dump all her petals at the beginning of the aisle and run the rest of the way. And he didn't care that the grumpy asshole sitting next to him was complaining he couldn't see because he was barely a foot taller than a gremlin and Edward was in the way.

All he saw, all he could focus on, was _her_. He hadn't let himself look at her, not really, when they were outside. Now...it was all he could do.

The dress hugged her in ways her clothes hadn't when they were eighteen. She had curves now. He didn't know any of the fancy words to describe the cut or style of the dress, but it was white, it made her look taller than her dwarf-like five-three—she'd always hated when he called her a dwarf, but to his six-two, she wasn't far off—and complimented her honey-toned skin.

Her hair was…weird. She'd always worn it down, wavy, and wild when they were younger. It felt like freedom, she said, and hair scrunchies hurt her head. But she had it all straight and neatly arranged at the back of her head. It made her look like the stuffy, grown-up posh people they used to laugh at. Even so…

She looked like an angel.

But she didn't look at him. Not as she sucked in a breath deep enough that he saw it from six feet away, and not as she started to walk. Not even as she passed him, a bouquet in her hand and the fakest smile he'd ever seen her wear on her face.

He wasn't sure if it was for the best or not that she didn't meet his watery eyes.

A huge part of him, the part he'd hoped wouldn't rear its ugly head, wanted him to scream that there _was _a reason that they shouldn't be married; he couldn't bring himself to look at the groom. He knew, thanks to his momma, that she was marrying Mike goddamn Stanley-Newton. He didn't need to see the prick to be sure; especially not with Senior chortling up-front and loudly announcing, "Of course, there's no reason!"

The guy was as much of an ass as his son, and everybody knew the senator's voice. He was never shy, that one.

They were told to be seated. Edward sat heavily, raking a hand through his hair and loosening his tie. No wonder Isabella fainted. It was hotter than Hades. Grumpy Asshole to his right huffed and knocked him with his elbow a few times as he got comfy; he quit his wriggling around when Edward shot him a look and gave him a sharp shove with his own elbow.

A few rows ahead, he could see his mother's mane of red-brown hair and his father's blond. Edward shuffled over a little so a guy with even broader shoulders than his own would block him if they turned around. He knew his momma hadn't believed him when he said he'd come today, but he wasn't sure he wanted her to see that she was wrong just yet.

If he was honest, the rest of the ceremony was a blur. Edward couldn't concentrate, his thoughts bumbling back and forth between their shared childhood and their odd reunion outside. It had been three years, but she was still so happy to see him. She'd jumped into his arms the same way she used to when they were kids; she'd smiled at him like he was still her best friend. The Biker Boy to her Little Boots.

It was only when the reverend announced them husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs Michael Stanley-Newton, that Edward realized what a fucked up mistake he'd made.

How did he ever think he'd be able to do this?

He had an ache in his gut the size of Texas itself and his eyes burned with tears he refused to shed. Listening to everyone clapping, Edward stifled the urge to cover his ears.

Clenching his teeth together, he ignored Grumpy Asshole's '_finally_, he's leaving' and threw himself up and out of the church. The feel of eyes on his back barely registered.

Stomping out into the midday sun, he raked a hand through his hair and stalked toward his bike. It was waiting right where he'd left it; right beside the car that had arrived to take the newlyweds to their reception.

The big-ass ribbon on the front and the custom 'Stanley-Newton' license plate were the straws that broke this camel's back.

"Fuck this."

As he slid his visor down over his eyes and revved the engine, Isabella and Michael were stepping out onto the front step. He saw her eyes widen when she spotted him and her mouth move, but he couldn't hear her over the growl of the Harley.

_You swore you wouldn't upset her…_

Mad at himself for putting the hurt look on her face, but even madder at her for even unknowingly putting him in this position, Edward let his hand ease up on the brake as his foot took its perch on the footpeg. Dust clouded the air behind him as he took off, his mumbled "I'm sorry, Little Boots" lost in the roar of the bike.

**~ oOo ~**

Slamming a five down on the bar, Edward stifled a growl when the guy a couple of stools over heckled him for ordering a coke. As much as the idea of a cold beer appealed, he had his bike outside. He was mad, sure—but not dumb.

_God, Little Boots…_

His reddened eyes burned as he pictured her out on the front steps. When she was still his Little Boots. Little Isabella Swan; the sweet, spunky girl who'd once kicked Edward's ass and handed it back to him for daring to tell her she couldn't ride his quad because she was a girl.

Despite his misery, the memory of her freckled face and messy pigtails made him smile. It was the first time he'd been given a beatdown by a girl, but he was pretty sure that was when he knew he wanted to marry her one day. Even when she was four and he was five, Edward knew they were meant to be together.

It was just a shame she'd never come to the same conclusion. He'd spent years waiting for her to open her pretty chocolate eyes and see that he was right in front of her and he'd give her the world, but instead he'd had to watch her fawn over Michael Stanley-Newton, of all people.

Michael was in Emmett's class and his extended group of friends, so Edward had gotten to see his assholery first-hand. He was a show-off and a self-entitled prick. Edward's opinion only worsened as time went on, and he was forced to listen to him laughing about Isabella's crush. More than once, Edward pictured himself messing up that pretty-boy face all the girls fawned over.

He was already considering leaving Houston when Isabella bounced over to his house, her curly hair wild and her boots clicking on the porch, to tell him Stanley-Newton had asked her out, _finally_, and could he believe it?

Edward set down his glass a little too hard, the memory stirring all those old feelings back to the surface. This trip…it was a bad fucking idea. Suddenly, all those repressed memories, all the buried emotions, they were flooding back—he'd tried so hard to keep them locked up tight where they couldn't hurt him; where they couldn't haunt his every waking moment.

She'd been his Little Boots for as long as Edward could remember, but now, she was _his_. Someone else's wife.

Eyeing the bottles of amber liquid behind the bar, Edward bit back the desire to get shitfaced and hung his head instead, trying to catch his breath and cool his head.

_Momma always said my hot head would get me in trouble one day. She never warned me that my foolish heart would do it first._

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

_Oh, for fuck's sake..._

Tipping his head to the side, Edward raised an eyebrow at the blonde sliding onto the stool next to him. She wore a Cheshire cat grin and the same pearl necklace she'd flaunted at high school.

"This doesn't seem like your kind of place, Jess."

Jessica Scott was the prime example of what could happen to a girl if she swallowed her brains and let her daddy's money do the talking. Everyone knew she only passed high school because Mr. Scott played golf with almost all the governors on the school board.

Years ago, Jessica's signature outfit consisted of her cheerleader uniform and those insanely big pearls around her neck.

Tonight…she wore a holey pair of jeans, a worn leather jacket, and her hair was scraped back in a messy updo.

Shrugging, she ordered herself a large glass of wine before turning back to Edward, her gray eyes narrowing.

_Were those lines around her mouth and eyes there before? _he wondered.

"My memory isn't perfect, but I'm pretty sure today happens to be the day all of Texas has been goin' on about for months. It is today, isn't it? Isabella Swan's weddin'?"

Scowling, Edward dipped his head in a curt nod. "Sure is."

Jessica thanked the bartender as he set her wine in front of her. "Well…what the heck are you doin' here, then?" She didn't let him speak before clucking her tongue and continuing. "I've gotta say, I always thought it'd be you two gettin' hitched. Everyone knew you were sweet on her."

Knowing his momma would kill him for gnashing his teeth together, Edward took a sip of his now-warm water instead. "I don't…I wasn't…"

Jessica's laugh attracted appreciative looks from the few other occupants of Jim's Bar. "You're kiddin' me, right? You're no actor, Edward Cullen."

Edward shook his head and snorted. "Naw, I know." Blowing out a long breath, he met her probing gaze. "I went. To the wedding, I mean."

Visions of Little Boots in her puffy meringue dress swam in his mind, her sad, confused face as he drove away…

Jessica's hand resting on top of his on the bar snapped him out of his memory.

Her eyes were soft and kind, her smile gentle and sympathetic.

_No...that's not sympathy. That's, empathy? _

"D'you remember Royce King?"

Edward nodded slowly, picturing the high school quarterback. "You dated all through high school, right?"

"Mmhm." Pulling her hand back, she shoved up one of her sleeves, revealing a faded pink line up her forearm. "I have more like that. He used to knock me around. I never told anyone, I just used to say I got my bruises in cheer, if anyone even bothered to ask."

Horror slithered through Edward's gut. He and Jessica weren't friends at school; they were barely acquaintances. To think she'd been dealing with that…and everyone thought they were the perfect couple. Cheer captain and quarterback.

"Jess, I—"

She held up her hand and put her sleeve back into place. "Don't, Edward. I didn't tell you that to get sympathy. Besides, Royce was a waste of space, but he gave me the best parting gift before he got himself thrown in jail for a DUI." Fishing her cell from her purse, she flashed him a picture of herself holding a small baby with her curly blonde hair and enormous gray eyes. "Chelsea's eight months old now."

"She's a beaut, Jess. Congratulations."

The sting of hurt for her didn't abate, and he had more questions about her and her life now than he felt comfortable asking—not that she gave him a chance.

"I don't want your pity, Edward. It's not the life I imagined for myself or my daughter, but we manage. We're happy and healthy." She narrowed her eyes. "But _you_…you have the chance to take back that life you should'a had."

"Do you hear yourself?" Edward scoffed, raking a hand through his messy bronze hair. "She got _married_ this mornin', Jess."

Shrugging, Jessica asked, "So? I was married to Royce, for a lil' while. Didn't stop him hurtin' me, did it? No that I'm saying he'd hurt her, but a ring an' a piece of paper don't make a relationship."

With a pang of nostalgia, Edward remembered that Jessica's Texan twang had always gotten stronger when drunk, upset, or excited. He wasn't sure which of the three she was today, but to be honest, he wasn't sure he cared. She was presenting him with an argument—the very argument he'd been trying to stop himself from having—and a reason not to give up.

"Look, Edward, it's like this. When did you last come back to Texas?"

Casting his mind back, Edward realized he knew the exact date. "June 5th, 2015."

Jessica nodded. "You skipped the last day, I remember. You didn't come back for anythin' in the last three years, but you got your butt back here for Isabella Swan's weddin'...does that not tell you something?"

An uneasy knot twisted his stomach.

"Everyone knew you were sweet on her. When you took off like a bat outta hell and broke your momma's heart, we all figured she'd go with you, but then she showed up to graduation with Mike…"

With a bolt of clarity, Edward remembered Jessica and Stanley-Newton were once close friends, courtesy of their parents—Mr. John Scott, Jessica's father, was the senator's right-hand man. At one time, it had seemed like Jessica and Stanley-Newton would hook up, but they never had…or not to Edward's knowledge, anyway.

Looking at the wistful look on her face now, Edward wondered if he was mistaken and he wasn't the only one nursing a wounded heart today.

"Why aren't _you_ at the wedding, Jess?"

"I didn't RSVP in time."

Something about her tone and the way she covered her expression told him that wasn't the whole story. He swilled the last dregs of his drink around the bottom of the glass, watching the swirling liquid catch the droplets on the sides.

"I didn't either," he admitted. "I told Momma I was comin', but she didn't believe me, so I figure she didn't tell the Swans."

"Didn't you see her earlier?"

"No. I hid at the back."

Jessica raised her eyebrows at him.

"I know, I know. I'm adding fuel to your fire."

She snorted a laugh. "You haven't changed one bit, Hair."

Edward loudly groaned at the use of the old nickname—one he'd hoped had died when he left Texas. "Oh, man...that's still a thing?"

"Naw, it's not. Although it _does _suit you. I just figure if I annoy you enough, you'll do what I know you're dying to, and go crash that weddin'."

Eyeing the clock behind the bar, Edward drummed his fingers on the counter.

"Look at it this way...you left her once. Can you do it again, now you've seen 'er?"

**~ oOo ~**

"This is crazy." Jessica giggled nervously, smoothing the sides of her dress and fiddling with her hair.

"Maybe just a little," Edward mumbled, adjusting his tie before deciding to just take it off. He stuffed it in his pocket and paused just outside of the hotel doors to turn to Jessica.

"You look pretty, Jess."

She flashed him the first genuine smile since he impulsively stood back at the bar, his stool scraping the floor as he invited her to be his 'plus one'. She'd called him an idiot, but eventually agreed when he promised a ride on the Harley and to buy her drinks at the reception.

"I do, don't I?" Gazing down at herself, she admitted, "I haven't worn this dress since high school. I'm surprised it still fits, honestly."

The pale blue, knee-length number didn't seem to fit her new, rougher, more casual dress sense, so Edward wasn't surprised.

Steeling himself, he grabbed the two folding chairs he'd leant against the wall—getting them here on the Harley hasn't been easy—offering Jessica a small grin. "You ready for this?"

"Eh, as I'll ever be."

They let themselves into the big room—they were happy to slide in undetected, the other guests already settled and enjoying the fine wines and canapés on the tables. The room itself was enormous. The decor was a million miles from anything Edward could imagine Little Boots choosing, but he supposed tastes could change.

He spotted his momma and pa quickly and led Jessica over to their table. Emmett and his fiancée, Lily, were also there, along with Mr. and Mrs. Platt, and Mr. and Mrs. Laurent—all neighbors from his and Isabella's parents' street.

"Edward!" Esme's grin was a mile wide when he sidled over, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. It was only as he'd removed his helmet outside that he'd realized he wasn't just going to have to grovel to Little Boots.

Despite her smile, Esme's eyes were spitting flames that confirmed his thoughts. She was madder than a boiled owl.

"I'm surprised to see you here. I didn't think you'd made it."

"I saw the important parts," he admitted begrudgingly, forcing himself not to search for Little Boots in the sea of people. "I had to make a pit stop before coming here, though, or I'd have hung around."

As Carlisle reached out to shake his son's hand, Esme spotted Jessica loitering behind Edward.

"Jessica, dear! It's so lovely to see you."

Edward couldn't stifle a chuckle when Jessica mouthed 'what the heck?' over his momma's shoulder; wide-eyed and hesitantly patting the older woman's back as she stood and drew her into a hug.

"Uh, it's great to see you, too, Mrs. Cullen."

"Oh, pish. It's 'Esme.'" Pulling back to offer her husband a wink, Esme told her, "Mrs. Cullen was my battleaxe of a mother-in-law."

Carlisle barked a laugh and nodded in agreement. "You're not wrong, love."

With the Platts and the Laurents watching with bewildered expressions, Esme frowned at her son. "I'll go see if they've got some spare chairs—"

"No need, Ma." Edward grinned and unfolded the camp chairs, sliding them up to the table when everyone did as Esme told them and shuffled closer to make room.

An impeccably dressed waiter came over with champagne and two fresh glasses, admitting there'd been two no-shows so Edward and Jessica could have their meals. As he walked away, Jessica poked Edward in the ribs and pursed her lips, her eyes flashing with humor as she fished the gas station sandwiches from the purse at her feet.

"I s'pose we won't be needin' these, huh?"

From across the table, Emmett snorted. His blue eyes were crinkled at the edges and his dimpled smile wide as he eyed the plastic-wrapped sandwiches. "You brought your own food?"

"Yeah, bro," Edward admitted, shrugging with a crooked smile of his own. "I figured we were last-minute guests. The least we could do was bring our own chairs and sandwiches."

**~ oOo ~**

If he ignored the loud voice of Senator Stanley-Newton and the _Mr. and Mrs. Michael Stanley-Newton _banner, Edward might have enjoyed himself. A band played from the stage at the other end of the ballroom; it wasn't his preferred style of music, but they were decent enough. The Wilkinsons—the no-shows—had both ordered the beef, which suited him just fine. He drank a couple of glasses of the free wine before switching to pop, wanting to be able to escape whenever he needed to, and enjoyed the free food, making sure to keep his eyes as far from the top table as possible.

Just as he remembered, the Platts and the Laurents were frightfully dull and terrible company. Instead of pointlessly trying to engage them in conversation, Edward enjoyed catching up with his brother and getting to know Emmett's fiancée. He'd met Lily a couple of times—she and Emmett met up with him in Collinsville, Illinois, to get a picture in front of the World's Largest Catsup Bottle, and in Miami to celebrate Lily's twentieth birthday. She was pretty, funny, and had a quick wit to rival that of her oaf of a boyfriend.

Despite the occasion, Edward found himself relaxing just a little. He sat back in his folding chair, enjoying the cool, sweet taste of his pop. It was his own fault, but he'd missed the easy company of his family.

Carlisle regaled them all with tales of the patients and their eccentric owners at his veterinary practice, and Esme filled the gaps with cheerful chatter and her warm laughter.

Growing up, Emmett and Edward were almost attached at the hip. Edward could convince himself that being apart wasn't too hard on him when he was away; with his brother across the table, he didn't want to think about saying 'goodbye' again just yet.

Jessica's words from earlier sprang to mind.

_Look at it this way...you left her once. Can you do it again, now you've seen 'er?_

Truthfully? He wasn't sure. A small voice in the back of his mind told him she'd already left him, technically. She'd chosen _him_. However, even if it meant avoiding her at all costs, Edward couldn't stomach the thought of driving out of Texas and leaving her behind for a second time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry this one is a bit later than I promised! Wedding prep ran over and it all took a bit longer than expected, but it's done now all ready for tomorrow. I have two more parts of this, one regular chapter and a smaller epilogue type thing. I'll post those as soon as I can—possibly tomorrow while I'm sitting being tortured with brushes and combs and make up *shudder***

**Thank you everyone for your support and well wishes. They mean more than I can say. And thank you to **annaharding **for editing even though I've probably messed it up tinkering after she was done.**

* * *

**Little Boots & Biker Boy**

**LITTLE BOOTS**

Michael stood to accept the microphone from the wedding coordinator, clearing his throat as he shot Isabella a small smile. She peered up at him, her eyes a little watery, and steeled herself.

"Hello, everyone. I hope you're all enjoying our special day."

Isabella tuned him out, her eyes scanning the sea of people in front of her.

Michael smoothly delivered their thanks to their guests for coming, and to the various people who'd helped organize everything. Their mothers received extravagant bouquets of flowers and their fathers were handed expensive bottles of whiskey. Isabella had picked out jewellery sets for each of the bridesmaids, while Michael opted for designer watches for each of his three groomsmen. Bouquets of flowers or gift cards went to the other people who'd contributed to their day, and then Michael sucked in a breath before angling himself toward Isabella.

Her heart gave a pang, her stomach twisting.

"You're stunning today, Isabella."

She felt her cheeks flush, hearing the titters of quiet amusement at her embarrassment, but the heat in her face was further fuelled by annoyance when he added, "Sarah did a great job, huh?"

A quiet thump from across the ballroom made Isabella pull her gaze away from him. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she thought she saw Edward's back before the door to the terrace swung shut, but no…

He'd left.

Hot tears stung her eyes as she pictured him roaring away from Ashton Gardens on his beloved bike, the visor shielding his face from her.

_He never used to hide from me. I wish I knew what I'd done to make him leave. Maybe his parents will know_—

"...Isabella?"

Isabella shook off her dismay at losing her chance to talk to Edward and refocused on Michael—her husband.

His eyebrows were slightly crinkled with frustration that he'd had to call her from her thoughts. She ignored it, smiling sweetly as the photographer crouched in front of them to snap photos for their wedding album. Those who didn't know him as well as she did wouldn't see anything other than mild bemusement in his gray eyes and the small smile curling his lips.

"As I was saying," he murmured, raising his voice and turning to face their three hundred guests. "My wife and I are immensely grateful for the support you've all given us, and we hope it will extend to us in our new home in New York when we move out there in the fall as I take over the east coast branch of Swan Hotels. It's an honor to be welcomed into a family I respect as much as my own, and a business that can only benefit from my strengths and skill set. Of course, Isabella will be needing your support in the coming years as we grow our family..."

A wave of applause and congratulations spread through the ballroom, but Isabella felt like she'd been plunged underwater. A deafening roar drowned out the voices of her parents as she was tugged to her feet and passed along the top table between her mother and father, her new mother- and father-in-law, and Michael's best man—Benjamin—before finding herself in Liberty's arms. Isabella's sister looked as confused as she felt. Liberty's eyes were filling with tears.

"Is it true? You're moving? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't...I didn't…"

Understanding dawned in Liberty's eyes as Michael plucked Isabella from her arms; she frowned, dashing tears from her cheeks and mouthing 'we'll fix this'.

As the excitement dissipated, Michael and Isabella took their seats. She felt numb.

_New York._

In their senior year of high school, Isabella and some of her girlfriends had driven out to New York City for a concert. Forty-eight hours—including several rest stops, as per their parents' instructions—and over one and a half thousand miles separated Houston and NYC.

_I can't move to New York,_ Isabella thought with more than a hint of panic. _Momma and Daddy are so busy, I'll never see them. Rosie, Alice...Libby and the baby. Sparks. Papaw, Meemaw, and Granny_—_they all refuse to travel out of state._

Michael's parting comment, about growing their family in the coming years, stuck in her mind, too. She wasn't even twenty-one yet, but he'd have her with child and barefoot in the kitchen already if it were his choice. Isabella's palms were clammy, her lip firmly between her teeth. Dreams of travelling, of seeing the world and making a career for herself, would be tossed in the trash. Going on vacation was one thing—_moving_ to New York was another.

Turning to Michael, Isabella mumbled, "Why...why didn't you tell me until now? Why didn't you _ask_ me?"

He smiled, taking a mouthful of his wine before answering in a tone that immediately made Isabella feel about three inches tall. "Because you didn't need to be worried with the technicalities, Isabella. I'm your husband now, I can take care of everything."

Opening and closing her mouth a few times, Isabella wondered if Michael had always been this boorish or if the changes had taken place slowly enough over time that she'd missed them.

"Are you really patronizing me right now? Is that how this is going to work?" she gestured between their bodies, her heart taking off at a gallop. She could suddenly see her life spread out before her—babies and cooking and being Michael's perfect little housewife until she died.

"Isabella—"

"Just _stop,_" Isabella hissed. "Stop treating me like a child."

Pursing his lips, Michael sucked in a deep breath and took her arm with a gentle but firm grip, leading her outside onto the terrace overlooking the gardens. The hot air outside was a stark contrast to the air conditioned temperature inside; she shivered, goosebumps rising over her skin as she yanked her arm out of his hand.

"Isabella, I really don't know why you're throwing a fit over this."

"_Throwing a..._who do you think you _are_?" Sucking her teeth, Isabella shook her head. "How long have you known about this move? How long?"

Rolling his eyes like he was bored of dealing with her, Michael admitted, "Several months, I suppose. Your father and I have known it was a possibility for a year or so, but it was confirmed in April."

"April…" Suddenly, things that hadn't even registered as out of the ordinary at the time clicked into place. "So when you took me to New York for that long weekend last month..." Michael sold the trip to her by promising they'd relax before the last-minute rush of wedding preparations began. Instead, he'd left her for business meetings every day they were there. Isabella had wound up shopping and Facetiming her sisters to keep herself busy.

"I was looking at apartments and getting things organized for the move. Your father's realtor has found us a great place overlooking Central Park. It has five bedrooms and a study for me, so there will be plenty of room for children—"

"I'm going to be sick."

The look of surprise and horror on Michael's face as Isabella clapped a hand over her mouth and turned to lose her expensive, three-course wedding breakfast over the balcony would have been comical if the photographer hadn't stepped outside at that exact moment.

"We'll be inside in a few minutes!" Michael snapped.

"_Oh, God…_"

"Do you need something? Water, a tissue? We need to get back in there."

Growling under her breath, Isabella shook her head. "Just...go. I'll be in in a minute."

Michael's footsteps disappeared inside, the music momentarily loud until the door clacked shut behind him. Too warm and thoroughly miserable on what should have been the happiest day of her life, Isabella rested her forehead against the cool concrete balustrade and let a few tears seep out of her eyes.

_This wasn't how it was supposed to be._

The festivities inside poured out onto the terrace once more as the door opened again.

"I said _go_, Michael."

"I've been called a lot of things, but that's definitely the worst."

_Oh._

Swinging around, Isabella managed a weak smile as she dashed the tears from her cheeks. "You came back!"

A pair of smiling jade eyes peered back at her. Below them was a familiar crooked smirk framed by a neatly trimmed beard and an ever-so-slightly wonky nose courtesy of Tyler Crowley's right hook. That day, every boy in highschool learned not to even look in little Lucy Crowley's direction while her college pitcher big brother was around. Isabella hadn't expected to see Edward again, honestly.

His smile fell and his thick brows furrowed as he crossed the terrace and ran the backs of his fingers over her tear-stained cheek. "What's wrong?"

"I…" Inhaling a shaky breath, Isabella shrugged. "Everything? No, I shouldn't have said that. I—"

"Hey, you don't have to lie to me, Little Boots? All right? Never lie to me." Without her permission, a few more tears leaked out onto her cheeks. His concerned expression darkened. "Did that asshole hurt you?"

"Not the way you mean," Isabella whispered, realizing she _had_ been right before—it _was_ his back she saw leaving the hall. "We're moving. To New York, in the fall." Her stomach tied itself in a tight knot. "I didn't...I didn't _know_, Edward."

"I'll kill him," he murmured, deadly soft and painfully serious. Isabella clutched his slightly wrinkled shirt, feeling the warmth radiating from his chest and the thump of his heart under her palm.

"Just...leave it, please. I'm okay. I'll talk to Daddy…" The thought of her father knowing about this and keeping it a secret from her made Isabella's knotted stomach turn. _How could he do that?_

"Little Boots…" Edward trailed off, his moss green eyes both soft but fierce.

"It's okay, really it is." Forcing a bright smile she didn't truly feel, Isabella wiped her face with her hands before looping her arm through his. "Come on, dance with me. I need to go to the ladies room first, but after that, you'll dance with me, won't you?"

Edward seemed to war with himself for a moment; Isabella's smile dropped a little, her lip disappearing between her teeth before he finally sighed and took her arm. "Of course I will. C'mon."

Relieved, Isabella ignored the eyes on them as they stepped back into the hall and moved toward the restrooms on the far side. Edward promised he'd be right outside when she was ready, so she made use of the facilities before mentally thanking her sister for her suggestion to keep a little box of essentials in the bathroom. Unwrapping a disposable toothbrush from its wrapper, she eyed herself in the mirror and gave herself a quick pep talk.

_Everything's just fine. It has to be._

A bolt of momentary panic shot through Isabella's veins when she stepped out of the restrooms and couldn't immediately spot Edward, but he appeared before she could truly get upset.

"You remember Jess, don't you?"

Smiling genuinely, Isabella drew a surprised Jessica into her arms. "Of course I do! It's lovely to see you, Jess. How are you?"

Looking about as uncomfortable as Isabella was surprised to see her there, Jessica shot Edward an indecipherable look before shrugging. "Can't complain. Congrats, though. Mrs. Stanley-Newton, huh? Just what you always wanted."

_My cheeks hurt_. The fake smile on Isabella's face wasn't fooling anybody; she could tell. She kept it up, though. "Oh, thank you! Yes, we're very h-happy. Can I get you a drink? Come on, let's get a drink."

**~ oOo ~**

"Oh, she's beautiful, Jess!" Isabella sighed, cooing over the photos of baby Chelsea on Jessica's phone. "I wish you'd brought her with you."

Snorting, Jessica took a healthy swig of her wine before shaking her head. "She's a wild little thing—only eight months, but _wild._" Smirking proudly, she admitted, "She gets that from me."

Laughing and sipping her second—or was it third?—glass of wine, Isabella leaned back into her chair. "I don't doubt it." She'd heard enough about Jessica's misadventures with Royce King to know not to insinuate that precious little Chelsea might have inherited her father's wildness. Instead, she turned her attention to Edward, who'd been watching the women catch up with a fond little smile on his face.

"I'll be back. I need to tinkle," Jessica announced, clapping her hands and taking her wine with her as she headed off into the crowd.

"What?" Edward asked, sliding over to sit in the chair beside Isabella. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm just happy you're here, Biker Boy," Isabella breathed, her smile widening to the point of ridiculousness.

"Isabella." It quickly fell as she twisted in her seat to scowl at her father. His dark eyes showed that he knew exactly why she looked less-than-pleased to see him, too. She'd managed to avoid him—and Michael—for almost two hours by hiding in the corner with Jessica and Edward. Isabella should have known her luck would run out sooner or later.

"Can I help you?"

"Edward, son, give us a minute—"

"Don't tell him what to do!" Isabella cried, turning back to face Edward. Grasping his thigh, she levelled him with a firm look. "Don't even think about movin'. If Daddy wants to _apologize_, he can do it right here, right now."

Edward's warm hand covered hers, his lips in a thin line as he murmured, "Talk to your dad, Little Boots. I'll be right over there with my parents, okay?"

Glancing over at Esme and Carlisle, Isabella nodded. They weren't so far away. Edward would be within her line of sight.

"Atta girl." Leaning in after hesitating a beat, he added, "Give him hell, Boots."

Isabella laughed lightly as he pulled away with a parting wink and headed over to join his momma and pa, leaving her in the presence of a man she could really do without right about now. "What do you want, then?"

"Isabella Marie, I know you're upset but I'm still your daddy and you'll talk to me with respect, understand?"

Chastened, Isabella hung her head, her eyes filling with tears. More than angry, she was _hurt_. "Why didn't you tell me, Daddy?"

Charles's eyes widened when she peered up at him, tear-filled eyes and downturned mouth and all. "I thought you'd be excited, Bell. You like New York, don't you?"

"Well, _yes_, but not enough to live there, Daddy! When will I see you, and Momma? And Liberty, Alice, and Rosie...the baby...I'll be so far away from you all. Meemaw, Papaw, and Granny won't come and see me, so I'll have to travel back here all the time, anyway." Brightening a little, she suggested, "I could stay here, and Michael could move to New York."

With furrowed brows, Charles cupped his daughter's face and stroked her jaw with his thumb. "You need to live with your husband, Bell. Don't you want to be with Michael? He'll give you a good life, honey. He'll never let you want for anything."

Forcing a smile, Isabella eyed Edward and tried to convey that he should come save her. He turned to say something to his momma as Isabella stood, only then realizing that she wasn't a wine drinker so the three glasses she'd imbibed had gone straight to her head. "_Oh_…"

"Here, Little Boots. Momma and Pa want to say 'congratulations'." Edward caught her by the waist with one arm, offering Charles a grin and an imaginary hat tip before leading her over to his parents. "Are you okay?" he whispered on the way.

"I'm fine, I just...maybe water is a good idea?" The giggles were never a good sign, but they were setting in.

"_Sweet Jesus._" Bypassing his parents, Edward told them, "We'll be right back. Boots is thirsty."

"All right, honey," Esme said softly with a wink for Isabella. "We'll be right here waitin'. No rush."

After grabbing two glasses of water from a passing server, Edward paused before leading Isabella out onto the terrace. It was a little cooler now than it had been earlier in the day; she sighed, tipping her head back and leaning against Edward's side for support. "Fresh air. Lovely."

Snorting a laugh, he guided her over to the balustrade and set the glasses down just out of reach. He told himself the arm around her waist was necessary; that the hand he kept on her was, too. "How much have you had to drink today?"

"Too much, probably. No, _definitely_." Peering up at Edward with glassy eyes, Isabella pursed her lips. "You're all...wobbly."

Shaking his head, Edward tapped her on the nose. "That would be _you_, Little Boots. Here, have some water."

The cool water soothed the flush of warmth spreading through her. Isabella chugged one glass before requesting the other and smiled when she caught Edward watching a droplet trail over her jaw after escaping.

"I'm really glad you came today, Biker Boy. I've missed you. You're my best friend, you know? Still. After all this time. Did you know that?" she babbled cheerily.

"Yeah? Well, how about that. You're still my best friend, too."

"Really?" She was pleased about that. "I'm glad. Glad. Glad. Isn't that a funny word? _Glaaaad_."

"_Good Lord_," Edward chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "You're an adorable drunk, Boots."

.

.

_The hot summer sun had baked the ground, so Isabella's boots stirred up dirt and dust as she jogged down the hill toward the creek. Laughter and cheerful voices wafted up from the water's edge where most of her classmates were already well on their way to being drunk._

"_Dang it," she muttered, speeding up. She could see Edward by the firepit, so that's where she headed. He flashed a wide, crooked grin when he spotted her and tossed a heavy arm around Isabella's shoulders as she took the empty spot beside him on the log._

"_Boots, you made it!" His cold beer breath in her ear made her shiver, his joviality undoubtedly down to the empty bottles at his feet._

"_Finally," she grumbled half-heartedly, unable to be annoyed when he was like this. All silly-sweet and affectionate as he stole a blanket from one of their classmates to wrap around Isabella's shoulders._

"_Don't get cold," he warned, waggling his finger at her like she'd seen his momma do to him a million times._

"_How about instead of mothering me, you grab me a beer?"_

_Tipping his imaginary hat, Edward jumped to his feet and stumbled over two sets of legs on his way to the coolers; the victims of his Dan Posts yanked their legs in so he could pass them safely on the way back. Rosy-cheeked, he sat beside Isabella again and handed her a beer, keeping another for himself. "There ya go, Boots."_

_"Thanks, Biker Boy." The cold, bubbly beer wasn't Isabella's favourite—she'd much prefer wine or a cocktail—but she'd drink it because everybody else was. _

_Leaning in to bump her shoulder with his, Edward raised his eyebrows at Isabella. His glassy green eyes crinkled with his mischievous grin. "Ya know, Boots. I think I might be a tiiiiny bit drunk."_

_Isabella's laugh rang out over the firepit and all the way down to the water's edge, where a few people turned to look and see what was so funny. Shaking her head, she patted his knee. "I think you might be a lot more drunk than that. But it's okay, I'll catch up."_

_"Oh, good. Let's do that."_

_And do that they did. Before long, Isabella had caught up with Edward. The cooler was emptied and restocked but the beer had been left out too long, so it was warm and even less pleasant than before, although they were too inebriated to care by then._

_They soon found themselves joining a group of their friends on a late night tromp through the brush._

_"Ouch! Boots, quit pinching me."_

_"I didn't though you!" She cried indignantly, carefully picking her way around some brambles. _

_"Well if you didn't, who did? Dammit, I'm caught on something. Help me, Boots."_

_It was hard to see without her cell, which she'd left at the stables before coming here, but Isabella managed to untangle Edward's jacket from where it had gotten snagged on a branch._

_"There, you're free!" Peering up at his face, cast in shadows and only barely lit by the moon sneaking through the tree cover, Isabella sighed. "You're an adorable drunk, you know that?"_

_"Well, hell, Bell. Thanks!"_

_Isabella scrunched her nose up. "Since when do you call me 'Bell'?"_

_"It's your name, ain't it?" His fingers appeared out of nowhere to tickle her side where her crop top and shorts left her midriff bare. "Naw, it just rhymed better. You're 'Boots' to me."_

_Before Isabella could say much, his expression—what she could make out of it—changed. His hand rested on her waist and goosebumps raised over her body as his thumb caressed the skin there._

_"Biker Boy…" Isabella whispered, just to say it. He made her nervous. He was her very best friend, but recently...she thought she saw something else in him, too. Something more. At his sixteenth birthday last month, they'd almost ended up in the closet when they played Spin the Bottle with their friends. It was two inches from Isabella. Instead, he'd gone into the closet with Luna Dehaines._

_"Boots. I, I need—" He didn't finish his sentence. Or at least, not verbally. Instead, he ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers in a messy kiss that left them panting laughs into each other's mouths._

_And that was her first kiss—his mouth tasting of beer and burnt hotdogs as they stood in almost complete darkness amidst summer scorched trees._

_._

_._

"Aw, shucks. Thanks! You're pretty adorable yourself, you know. All the girls in there," Isabella pointed toward the wall, "they all think so." Leaning on close enough that she almost head-butted him, Isabella told him conspiratorially, "I think Jessica's hopin' you'll take her home and get her out of her dress."

Edward guffawed. "I really don't think so. I actually think she's got her eye on the best man."

Sniffing, Isabella frowned. "Hm. He's a jerk, just like my husband." Throwing her arms out, she slapped one of the glasses off the balustrade they were sitting on. It fell silently into the bushes below. "I can't believe he's my husband. I married an asshole, didn't I?"

"No arguments from me, Boots." Spying several people—including the senator—glancing at them through the windows, Edward urged Isabella onto her feet. "Come on, you. Let's get back inside."

"Do I still look drunk?" Isabella made a concerted effort to stand up straight and plastered a brilliant, obviously fake, smile on her face.

"Yeah, Boots, you do. But there's not much we can do about that."

**~ oOo ~**

True to his word, Edward stuck close to Isabella.

She forced herself to put up with being passed around between various family members—hers and Michael's—before finally grabbing a bored Edward's hand and dragging him out of the hall after a particularly tiresome conversation with Michael's dull-as-rocks aunt and uncle. Copious glasses of water and boring conversations had robbed her of her wine buzz, so she managed to hurry along without her heels causing her any bother.

"Where are we goin'?" Edward chuckled, apparently more than willing to escape.

"Somewhere other than here," she breathed, hitting the _down_ button outside the elevators repeatedly until the doors slid open. Stepping inside with Edward close behind her, Isabella had the sudden, horridly wonderful thought…

_We could run._

By the time they reached the lobby of the hotel she was almost desperate to do it. Seeing Edward's Harley gleaming in the late evening sunshine made it possible, his warm hand in hers bringing life to the impossible idea.

_We could do it. Nobody would know until it was too late._

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, Little Boots?"

Blinking up at Edward, Isabella wondered if he'd do it. His expressive emerald eyes were happy and bright, his smile lopsided and curious as he cocked his head at her.

_Would he run with me?_

"I—"

"Isabella, what are you doing down here?"

"Meemaw?"

"Honey pie, you should be—oh. Edward Cullen, as I live and breathe."

Edward's grin spread wider as he kissed Meemaw Swan's cheeks. "Mrs. Swan. You look beautiful, as always."

Meemaw patted his cheeks, shooting Isabella a smile. "Bless your heart. And you're as charming as your daddy and grandaddy, I see. Glad you see you made it back for my honey pie's special day."

Solemnly, he told her, "I wouldn't have missed it." His eyes darted over to Isabella's as she chewed her lip and flicked her gaze over to the Harley glinting so temptingly…

"All right, I'm going back up. Are you two coming?"

"In a minute, Meemaw."

Watching her grandmother heading back inside, Isabella decided to seize the chance. She wouldn't get another one like it, and she knew it. Thoughts of riding on the back of Edward's Harley, of being free to do what they wanted and to go wherever they pleased, swam in her mind. "Let's go."

Frowning, but also still smiling, Edward asked, "What? I thought you said 'in a minute'. Now you want to rush back in?"

"No, I want to _go_. Let's go. Let's just...run away."

Exhilaration bled into her veins. Edward shifted, his forearm muscles flexing as he tugged at his hair. Not for the first time today, Isabella was faced with the evidence of how well he'd grown into a man. Muscles in all the right places, a handsome face that made her heart race every time he smiled at her, and a voice as soft as honey. He was dangerous. If she weren't careful, Isabella could imagine the crush she'd had on him as a girl returning full-force.

"Come on, Biker Boy. You, me, your bike...it'd be great. You know, the open road…"

"The open road, huh?" Edward hummed, his smile wry. "You don't know what you're askin' for, Boots. C'mon, let's get you back inside where you belong."

"Where I…" Isabella trailed off with a frown, a rock landing in the pit of her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Little Boots, look, I—" He cut himself off with a shake of his head and a frustrated shuffle of his feet. "You don't want that. You've got a great life here. A cushy one. You don't want to leave that behind for a life on the road with me."

The more she thought about it, the more that was exactly what Isabella wanted.

A life of freedom and days filled with adventure and exploration rather than expectation.

"Come on, Biker Boy. You know you want to."

For a moment, he hesitated. She really thought he was going to agree. Then, he laughed. "You've had too much to drink, Boots."

Rejection burned as it worked its way through her. Hot tears prickled Isabella's eyes. Before he could say another word, she shoved past him, hiking up her dress and speeding ahead. The elevator doors closed behind her as he stepped back into the lobby with a solemn frown on his face.

**~ oOo ~**

Thankfully, nobody seemed to have noticed Isabella's absence. She plastered a smile on her face and prayed it looked genuine before taking a flute of champagne from the closest server and slipping back into conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Newton, the senator's brother and his wife.

When Edward entered the room a few minutes later, she ignored him, forcing a laugh she didn't feel instead. He paused as he passed the little group, but didn't linger.

Over the course of the next hour and a half, Isabella began to notice things she'd never paid attention to before: the sneer on Michael's face when she admitted to one of his colleagues that she wanted to wait a while before having babies; his condescending tone when he informed her that she wouldn't be decorating anything because the new apartment in New York would be fully furnished when they arrived; the way her stomach remained steady and her knees stayed firm when he smiled.

Once upon a time, a smile from Michael Stanley-Newton would have slayed her. Now, it did little more than annoy her.

All the things she'd overlooked in recent months and talked herself into believing weren't important suddenly seemed almost overwhelmingly so. All the dreams she had, the things she wanted to do...they'd disappeared in a poof of smoke the very second she said 'I do' to Michael just a few hours ago.

Spotting Liberty and Eric deep in conversation across the room, his hands on her belly and a frown on his face, she fought tears and slipped away from Michael before finding herself bumping into Edward's father—quite literally.

"Isabella! My apologies, Ma'am. Esme always says I have two left feet." Smiling cheekily, he held out a hand. "May I?"

Biting her lip, Isabella glanced over his shoulder. Edward's back was to them as he spoke to Jessica. Sighing, she finally nodded and let Carlisle lead her onto the dance floor. "Seeing as you sold your dancing skills so well." He laughed, the sound making her smile despite herself. As they moved gracefully together, Isabella couldn't help but notice the similarities between him and his son. They had the same sharp jaw, the same high cheekbones and pretty eyes despite their different color—Carlisle's a cool blue to Edward's soft green.

"Thank you for bringing him back to us," he eventually murmured.

Isabella's eyes snapped up to his face. "Sorry?"

"If it weren't for you, I don't know if he would have come back at all." Shaking his head with a quiet, rueful chuckle, Carlisle spun her under his arm before adding, "You're important to him. I'm glad that he has you."

"Mr. Cullen, I—"

"It's 'Carlisle', hon."

Unable to resist his sunny smile, Isabella returned it with one of her own instead. "Carlisle, I didn't do anything to get Edward back here. I invited him, but I never for one moment thought he'd actually come. He's never come back to Houston for anything else."

"Exactly," he hummed. "So, what makes you think this time is different? I have my own guesses, but I'm interested to hear yours."

Peering over at Edward as he led Jessica onto the dance floor, their smiles directed at each other and their laughter just loud enough for it to reach her, Isabella couldn't deny the pang of jealousy that swept through her. "I don't know. An excuse to visit his family, maybe?"

"Perhaps," Carlisle conceded. They twirled around together for the remainder of the song. As the band segued into something else, Isabella's gaze met Edward's through a sea of people. He offered her a brief half-smile before Jessica pulled his head down to her to whisper something in his ear.

Isabella barely heard Carlisle thanking her for the dance as she weaved between guests until she was standing in front of Jessica and Edward. He peered down at her curiously.

"Can we talk?"

Nodding slowly, Edward shot a quick look at Jessica, who offered him a nod and a shrug. "Sure. Let's talk."

Before he could back out—or she could chicken out—Isabella grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the tall doors leading out onto the terrace. Spinning to face Edward, Isabella's cheeks flamed hot as she almost tripped and face-planted him. He caught her easily with two large, warm hands at her waist; his lopsided grin made her smile despite her embarrassment.

"Sorry."

"Don't be, it's no problem."

Awkwardness descended for a few long moments. Isabella became painfully aware of the heavy thump of Edward's heart under her palm, the intense way he gazed down at her, and the static charging the air between them. Something felt...different. Less friendly, and more..._more_.

"So...you want to talk?" Edward prompted gently.

"I do! I mean, I—_yes_, I want to talk." Blowing out a long breath, Isabella steadied herself and gingerly pulled her hands away from Edward.

_I can't think with my hands on him._

"I'm sorry for storming off. I just...I was upset and I overreacted."

"It's okay, Boots, you don't have to apologize to the likes of me," Edward said with a rueful half-smile. "Besides, it's your wedding day. I reckon that gives you some flexibility with bein' all...you know, emotional and stuff."

Raising one eyebrow, Isabella snorted. "Emotional and stuff...wow."

With a grimace, Edward murmured, "Sorry. I keep sayin' the wrong thing, don't I?"

"No," Isabella breathed. "No, you don't. You've done nothing wrong. I overreacted." Sucking in a breath that felt too big for her tight chest, she admitted, "I think I've made a mistake."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you again to everybody who has sent lovely well wishes for my wedding. It was a truly stunning fay—the best day of my life by far. If you'd like to see pictures, please come find me on Facebook under the same name I am here. I don't bite and I love to make new friends.**

**I'm away on my honeymoon now so I'll post the last installment of this little tale later today.**

**Lots of love to **annaharding **for being the real MVP and always helping me out when I have random plot bunnies.**

* * *

**Little Boots & Biker Boy**

**BIKER BOY**

"_Ewww! Get that away from me, it's all yucky!" Missy Adams squealed as she turned tail and ran away as fast as she could._

_Giggling, Edward carefully cupped the toad in his small palms and lifted it so they were eye-level with each other. He, the toad, stuck out his long tongue before letting out a belly-wobbling croak. "C'mon, Frank. Let's go home."_

"_Edward! Edward, look!"_

_Turning toward the voice, Edward's face split in a lopsided, gap-toothed grin. He hadn't expected to see Isabella today, it being her birthday and all. His momma told him she was having a party this weekend, so he wasn't expecting to see her 'til then. She ran down the slope to the stream with her pigtails flying behind her and her hands clutching her pale yellow sundress so it wouldn't cling to her legs. Skidding to a stop in front of Edward_—_and Frank the toad_—_she flashed him a rosy-cheeked smile and extended her leg, popping her hip like she'd seen the models do when they came to stay at her daddy's hotel a few weeks ago._

"_What do ya think? Papaw got them for me."_

_The worn, scuffed boots she usually wore had been replaced. They were brown, like the old ones, but these had cut-out sections filled in with blue glitter. When she moved her foot to show them off, the fading fall sunlight made them sparkle and shimmer._

_When he looked up at her face, his beloved pet toad still clutched in his hands, Edward saw her hopeful brown eyes peering back at him; he couldn't help it. He busted out laughing until his eyes watered and his tummy ached._

"_Ed_ward_!" Isabella whined, stamping her sparkly boot-clad foot. "Quit laughing!"_

"_Sorry, sorry," he finally panted, sitting on the dirt bank that overlooked the stream. Frank settled happily on the rock in the little plastic tank Edward carried with him when he took his pet out and about. Offering what he hoped was an apologetic smirk, Edward patted the ground and kept quiet until Isabella had haughtily taken a seat. "They're...um, nice?"_

_Isabella's lips twitched toward a smile despite the fact that she was obviously trying to look mad. "You hate them."_

_Hesitating for barely a second, Edward nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. They're horrible. But if you like 'em, that's all that counts, right?" Nudging his shoulder against hers, he added, "Happy birthday, by the way. How come you're allowed out? I thought you'd be spendin' time with your folks."_

_Shrugging, Isabella toed the dirt, twisting her feet this way and that. Beside Edward's gangly legs, hers looked positively tiny. Edward noticed this at the same time. "You have real short legs, you know. And your feet are so _little_."_

"_That's okay. Momma says the best things come in small packages," she told him with a saccharine sweet smile._

_Laughing, Edward nodded. "Okay. Seriously, though, look at your little boots!"_

_Shifting and tossing one of his muddy, jean-clad legs over hers, he rested their feet together; hers, his, hers, his. Little boot, big boot, little boot, big boot._

"_I guess they _are _kind of little…" Isabella conceded with a giggle._

_._

_._

"_That's what I'm gonna call you," Edward decided later, when he walked her back to the foot of the porch steps. His nose itched as he tried to see if Mr. Swan was loitering anywhere by the windows. He was a scary guy._

"_What?" Isabella's cheeks were rosy from running around in the sun all afternoon, her hair curly and windswept thanks to the breeze that blew along the surface of the river. She'd pulled the bands from her braids and let her hair tumble freely around her shoulders. The pristine dress she left in was now streaked with mud and splashed with river water, but the smile on her face as she beamed back at her friend was merely happy and curious._

"_Little Boots," Edward said with a decisive dip of his chin. "I'm gonna call you 'Little Boots' from now on, on account of your teeny tiny little baby feet."_

_With a shaky of her curly-haired head, Isabella held her tummy and giggled. The sweet, bell-like sound made Edward's cheeks flush. "I like it. I need to think of a nickname for you, though." Tapping her lips, she smirked cheekily. "What about 'Toad Boy'? You take Frank _everywhere_."_

_Clutching his beloved pet in his portable tank, Edward scowled. "'Toad Boy' is dumb. That's not a good nickname. People'll think you're sayin' I look like a toad."_

"_Oh, that won't do." Frowning, Isabella shrugged. "I'll think of somethin'."_

_No sooner than she said that did the front door slide open. Renee Swan hid a smile behind her hand when she spied her daughter and Edward beaming at each other on the porch steps. "Are you coming in, sweetheart? Dinner's ready."_

"_I'll be right in, Momma," Isabella chimed, turning to face her. "Can Edward stay for dinner?"_

_Nodding, Renee turned to Edward. "Of course, he can. What do you say, Edward? We're trying out a new recipe."_

_As Isabella hid a smile behind her hair, Edward tried to school his grimace. Everybody knew Renee Swan was a great cook_—_except when she experimented. "Uh, that's real nice of you, Mrs. Swan, but I_—"

"_Edward? There you are!"_

_Sighing, Edward attempted to look regretful as he turned toward his mom's voice. She stood on their porch across the street, hands on her hips and a frown etched into her forehead._

"_What did I tell you about stayin' out all day?"_

"_Sorry, Momma!" he called, flashing Renee an impish grin. "Another time, Mrs. Swan?"_

"_You're welcome any time, sweetheart." Winking, she nodded across the street. "You'd best get yourself home."_

"_Sure." Turning back to Isabella, Edward gave her a shy wave. "Bye, Little Boots."_

_Isabella's cheeks flamed. "Bye, Edward."_

_._

_._

_Later, after a failed attempt at eggplant lasagne and a last-minute takeout dinner, Bella sprawled herself upside-down on her bed and flicked through her photo albums from this past summer. There were a whole bunch from their family vacation to the Hamptons where they spent a week in June, and then a ton of pictures of Isabella with various configurations of friends and family members. Liberty and Alice were in most of them, but Edward also featured in many._

_A slow smile spread across Isabella's face as she stopped on the most recent addition to the album. A few moments later, she had the landline in hand and the album open on the console table in the hall. The phone rang, and rang_, _and_—

"_Hello?"_

"_Emmett? It's Isabella. Please, can you put Edward on?"_

"_Sure. One sec, little Bell."_

_Isabella pulled the phone away from her ear as Emmett yelled for his brother, then grinned into the receiver when Edward came on._

"_You survived!"_

_Snorting, Isabella murmured, "Barely! We had to order takeout."_

_Edward laughed. "I know. I saw the delivery guy. What's up?"_

"_Oh, so I've decided what your nickname should be."_

_It was easy to hear the curiosity in Edward's voice as he asked what she'd chosen. Isabella traced the red and black lines painted on Edward's BMX; a gift from his parents for his birthday back in June. "Biker Boy. You know, 'cause you _looooove _your bike?"_

"_Huh, that's not bad," he conceded happily. "Biker Boy and Little Boots."_

"_No, that sounds dumb. It's gotta be Little Boots and Biker Boy. That's the right way 'round. It sounds better."_

_Charlie appeared in the doorway then, his thick brows jumping up his forehead when he spotted his daughter twirling her hair and giggling into the phone at a _boy_. "Isabella Marie Swan, what do you think you're doin'? You're supposed to be in bed, missy."_

"_Sorry, Daddy." To Edward, she added, "Gotta go, Edward_—_oops, I mean Biker Boy. Bye!"_

_Renee joined her husband in time to watch their daughter run back up the stairs clutching her photo album, giddy grin well and truly in place on her face._

_Gruffly, Charlie asked, "What just happened here?"_

"_I think your girl has a crush."_

"_Over my dead body," Charlie scoffed. "On the Cullen kid? Never gonna happen, you mark my words."_

**~ oOo ~**

"What do you mean, made a mistake?"

Edward's heart began to thump hard against his ribs. His eyes followed Isabella's as she fiddled with some sparkly embellishments at her waist; he couldn't resist looking when she heaved in a breath, her chest rising with the movement.

"I think..._God, I can't believe I've been so stupid_." Blowing out a sigh between her lips, she offered him a wry, heartbreakingly sad smile. "I've messed this all up. I shouldn't have gotten married today. Jesus, what was I thinking? My own husband kept the fact that we're moving out-of-state from me for _months_." To herself, she murmured, "_What else is he hiding from me?_"

Shaking her head, Isabella seemed oblivious to Edward's inner turmoil. His sweaty palms shook as he shoved them into his pockets.

"I want to travel the world, you know? I want to see all the cool things you get to see." Flushing, she softly admitted, "I follow you on Facebook through Libby. She shows me all your pictures."

That small admission clicked into place as Edward released a sigh. He'd always wondered. He'd hovered over the 'add friend' button so many times, staring at the picture of Isabella's smiling face pressed against that of her beloved horse. Her account was set to public, so he could see most things she posted.

He'd checked it more times over the years than he wanted to admit.

"I don't want to be stuck in New York, sequestered away in a stupid penthouse while Michael is off doing what he wants to." A chasm cracked open Edward's chest as he watched tears fill Isabella's eyes. "I want to _live_. I want a life. I know I sound like a spoiled little brat, but I—"

"Don't, Boots." Edward's fingers rested lightly over her lips. He just barely managed to ignore the soft, warm feel of them to warn, "Don't do that. This whole thing...movin', keepin' it a secret, it's bullshit. That's somethin' you should get to decide for yourself, or at least have an input on."

As he lowered his hand, Isabella moved to speak. She was cut off by the slam of a door further along the terrace and hissed voices. They strained to hear, sharing impish, almost childlike smiles as they edged along toward the vine-covered trellis separating the two balconies. They'd lost count of the times they got into bother eavesdropping on their neighbors as children, now here they were, still unable to resist doing it as adults.

Peeking over the top as Isabella tried to find a gap in the vines, Edward felt his stomach drop.

"Why did you come here?"

"_How can you even ask that? _I love you!" Edward didn't recognize the woman until she turned slightly, dashing tears from her make-up streaked cheeks. _Holy shit._

"Will you quiet down? Jesus, Lauren. You're making a scene!"

"Who is it?" Isabella whispered.

Edward's felt hollow as he tried, in vain, to steer her away. His feet were heavy like they'd been filled with lead.

"Biker Boy," she whined, tugging his arm. "Who is it? I can't see."

"Boots…"

On the other side of the trellis, the voices were getting louder, more emotional. If Edward's heart had been breaking before, it was shattering now.

_This is going to wreck her._

"Don't do this, _please. _You can't do this to me. You promised it wouldn't get this far."

"You always knew this was going to happen, Lauren. I was honest about that much."

"I can't believe this. You can't do this to me, Michael!"

Edward's stomach fell to his feet as Isabella sucked in an audible breath. "Michael…"

She'd know her guest list better than he did, but Edward was pretty sure there was only one Michael here, and that was the groom.

"Is that…"

Before Edward could answer or stop her, Isabella had hitched up her skirt, kicked off her heels, and taken off running.

"Shit, Little Boots, wait!"

For a short little thing weighed down by what had to be a ton of dress, Isabella could move. People looked as she threw open the doors and rushed through the group clustered in front of them, but Edward didn't spare them a glance. Growling a curse, he shoved his way past the senator and followed Isabella out onto the other terrace. He almost crashed right into her back.

She'd come to a sudden stop just outside, her chest heaving in time with the tears that tumbled over her cheeks. Her big, doe eyes were trained intently on Michael's back as he pulled Lauren against his chest, her loud cries reverberating around Edward's brain.

_That absolute fucker._

As Edward's granddaddy would say, Michael was _sho'nuff all hat, no cattle_; as stupid as the day was long.

He still hadn't noticed that his wife was watching him embrace the woman who was obviously his mistress. He didn't, either, until Isabella softly cleared her throat.

If it weren't for the way Isabella trembled at his side, her face stained with betrayal, Edward might've found the look on Michael's face funny when he realized he'd been caught out. Instead, he wanted to pummel the dumb son of a bitch. For fucking up, for stealing his girl, and for breaking her heart on what should have been the best day of her life.

Shoving Lauren away, Michael put his hands out in supplication. "Isabella, it's not—"

"Don't you _dare _undermine my intelligence, Michael. _Don't you dare._"

His eyebrows rose in surprise. She'd never spoken to him that way before, Edward was suddenly sure of it. His eyes jumped to Lauren—who was still crying but also looked a lot less guilty than he'd expect of someone who'd been caught having an affair with a man who'd gotten married just hours ago.

"I want a divorce."

Michael's eyes couldn't have gotten any wider. "Isabella, honey—"

Lauren suddenly stepped forward, desperately clutching Michael's arm. "This is what we wanted, Michael. We can be together."

Snatching his arm back, Michael shook his head. "Shut _up_, Lauren. You know we can't ever be together publicly. Our fathers are opposing members of the House. It's never going to happen so just get your head around it, will you? Christ."

Edward couldn't stifle a bolt of sympathy for Lauren as her face flamed beet red and she took off, brushing between him and Isabella as her tears restarted. Then he reminded himself that she knew what she was doing and that the man she was with was getting married to another woman. She wasn't oblivious.

But Isabella clearly had been.

"I want a divorce," she repeated, more clearly and much louder this time. Resolute.

Edward's fists clenched at his sides as Michael sighed and rolled his eyes as though dealing with a tantrum-throwing toddler rather than his adult wife. Anger burned as it coursed through his veins. He'd never wanted to hit him so much. Edward had never hated him more. It was taking everything he had to stand in place and keep his hands to himself.

Then he opened his mouth again, and all bets were off.

"Isabella, there's no need to throw a fit. We can—"

Edward didn't make it in time. Isabella beat him to the punch—quite literally—blood spraying from Michael's nose as she landed a solid hit to his face.

"Holy _shit_, little Bell!"

Emmett's appearance on the balcony didn't make any sense until Edward glanced back and saw his brother holding the doors closed, the best man attempting to open them from the other side. However, he was no match for Emmett's brawn. Pride and admiration shone from Emmett's toothy smile as he winked at Isabella. "We could've used you back in the day with a right hook like that."

Managing a shaky smile, Isabella shook her hand and cradled it in front of her chest. "I offered to help. You and Edward always said I was too little."

Huffing softly and pulling her into his side as he watched Michael attempting to keep the blood dripping from his nose from landing on his suit, Edward reminded her that she was even smaller 'back in the day' than she was now. As teenagers, Edward and Emmett had raised hell and got into plenty of scuffles; great right hook or not, she wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Isabella, we need to talk about this," Michael gritted out, cupping his nose.

"Hey." Emmett growled his reprimand. "Watch yourself. She's a lady an' you're on thin ice, got it?"

Even Edward wasn't dumb enough to start a fight with Emmett—not now that he was old enough to know he'd lose and lose _hard_.

Michael apparently wasn't that smart. Wiping his face with his bloodied sleeve, he took a step toward Edward and Bella. Edward adjusted his stance a little, reminding himself that his momma would kill him for getting into a fight today.

"She's my wife and I'll talk to her however I like."

"You'll what?" Not Emmett or Isabella, this time. Edward swung around, only now realizing what the best man was too dumb to figure out. There was another door, and Mr. Swan had found it.

Edward's breath lodged in his throat as he watched Mr. Swan's face darken to a worrying shade of puce. He was madder than a wet hen, no doubt about it, and he'd only heard Stanley-Newton's last statement. Only time would tell if he'd figured out what was going on.

"Daddy, I can handle—"

"You'll do no such thing, Isabella." Mr. Swan's tone brooked no argument; Isabella wanted to argue, Edward could tell, but she dipped her chin and bit her lip instead. Catching Mr. Swan's gaze, Edward tightened his arm around Isabella's shoulders. He saw the begrudging look in the older man's eyes and almost smiled when he turned his attention to Emmett.

"Emmett, son. Take Isabella inside. Michael and I need a quiet word."

Isabella's head shot up. She looked between Edward and her father in panic. "Daddy, I—"

"Little Boots," Edward murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. A bolt of possessive delight shot through his veins, Michael's loud huff only making him hold her tighter. "Go with Em. I'll stay with your pa and keep him outta mischief."

"That's what I'm worried about," she admitted.

"C'mon, little Bell. Let's get you a drink. I reckon we're all in need of a stiff one."

The worry in Isabella's eyes strengthened Edward's resolve to keep Mr. Swan from murdering Stanley-Newton—as he suspected was Charles's intention—however much he'd like to witness it. "You can trust me, Boots. I swear."

The tiniest smirk danced on Isabella's lips even as her eyes shone with unshed tears. "Cross your heart?"

.

.

_With their dirt-smeared legs dangling over the edge of the dock, Edward and Isabella grinned at each other and compared the gaps between their teeth. "This one's gonna fall out real soon, I know it," she declared, tugging at the loose tooth in the front of her mouth so it would wobble to and fro._

_Edward shook his head and flopped back on the summer sun-warmed wood. "I don't know, Boots. It looks like it's hangin' in there pretty hard."_

"_It _is _gonna fall out soon," Isabella insisted, lying beside him with her head propped on her hand. "I need it to, 'cause Daddy confiscated my piggy bank and I'm short a dollar for the movies on Saturday."_

_Staring up at the wispy clouds until he went cross-eyed, Edward rolled his head to face her. "I'll share my pocket money. I've got plenty after helpin' Pa last week."_

_Isabella's face brightened, her pout evaporating to be replaced by a beaming smile_—_wobbly tooth, and all. "Really? Cross your heart?"_

.

.

"And hope to die, Little Boots," Edward promised with an infinitesimal shake of his head. "Now, go on with you. Em needs a babysitter."

"I sure do, little Bell," Emmett told her unabashedly, tugging her out of his brother's arms and leading her inside. She looked back at the three men still on the terrace as she stepped through the doors, her eyes beseeching Edward to keep the peace.

His nod promised he would; he crossed his fingers at his back and quickly prayed twice. Once that God would turn a blind eye, and once that Isabella would forgive him for what he was about to do.

As soon as she turned to follow Emmett inside, Edward spun neatly and threw his fist in a perfect punch that landed right where Isabella's had a few minutes previous. Blood spurted from his already-damaged nose and Michael crumpled to the flagstone tiles like an accordion.

"_Whoa_, son." Mr. Swan's hand landed heavily on Edward's shoulder, holding him in place but only barely. His voice belied his smirk. "There's no need for violence, now."

"_Ow._" Michael whimpered, cradling his face once more. "You broke my nose!"

Shaking his head and wiping his hand on the handkerchief Mr. Swan pulled from his pocket, Edward sighed. "I think Boots—_Isabella _already took care of that. I just made sure of it."

Grabbing Michael by his lapels, Mr. Swan hauled him to his feet. Edward saw the moment Michael realized that he was the least of his worries.

Face-to-face with the pissed-off father of the woman he'd done dirty, Michael looked about ready to piss his fancy pants.

"Have you lost your cotton pickin' mind, boy? Have you?"

"N-no, Sir." Edward's lips twitched toward a smile as Michael began to babble. "It's not what it sounded like, Charles—"

Mr. Swan shook Michael and took a big step forward. It brought Michael's back up against the balustrade; something of which nobody on that balcony was unaware. "That'll be 'Mr. Swan' to you. Now, you were tryin' to tell me that you haven't been cheatin' on my baby girl."

_Aw, shit. He knows._

Shooting a look at the doors—which Emmett appeared to have locked if the people scrabbling at the handles were anything to go by—Edward sent up another prayer.

_Please don't be mad at your pa, Boots. I'd do the same if it were my daughter in this situation._

A rogue image of a little girl with his green eyes and Boots's brown tresses twirled through his mind before he was brought back to the present by Mr. Swan's roared curse followed by what he could only describe as a squeal flying from Michael's mouth.

"Don't drop me, you maniac! Charl—_Mr. Swan_! You can't...you wouldn't!"

"Oh, quit yer' bellyachin'! You ain't right in the head if you thought you'd get away with breakin' that girl's heart, boy."

"Holy shit!" Draped over the balustrade with his hands desperately clinging to Mr. Swan's jacket, Michael found Edward. His panicked eyes pleaded with him for help. He wouldn't find any. "Get him off me, Cullen, Jesus!"

"I'm not sure blasphemin' is gonna help you any," Edward told him conversationally, glancing at the doors again. One of the guys—one of Michael's groomsmen—had disappeared. Probably to fetch hotel staff. "I'd say an apology might go some way in...or, maybe not." He cut off and chuckled at the dark look Mr. Swan shot over his shoulder.

"You can't seriously...you wouldn't toss me over…" This time, it was Michael trailing off. Whether he'd first seen the intention in Mr. Swan's eyes or realized help wasn't coming quickly, Edward didn't know. Either way, his struggles became more desperate.

"Uh, Sir…we're about to have company."

Mr. Swan blew out a breath through his teeth and nodded, leaning more of his weight against Michael's chest and pushing him harder into the concrete at his back. "You're fixin' for a bullet right between the eyes, boy. Only my respect for your father is savin' your ass, you hear me?"

Michael nodded frantically, still using his arms and legs to try and gain grip. "Y-yes, Sir."

"If you _ever_, and I mean _ever_, come near any of my daughters or my wife again, you won't be so lucky. Got it?"

"Got it, I've got it, just—just let me up!"

Mr. Swan gave Michael one last shove so he'd slide a smidgen further toward almost certain death before hauling him back and throwing him toward the floor. The doors flew open at the same time.

"Michael, goodness gracious!"

Straightening his jacket, Mr. Swan jerked his chin at Edward. They strolled past Michael's mother and Lauren as they hurried to him and didn't stop walking until they'd crossed the dance floor and found Isabella and Emmett at the bar. Her eyes found them as they stepped off the parquet onto the carpeted bar area. She slipped from her stool, gathered up her skirts, and ran right into his arms.

Edward's breath hitched as she hit his chest, warmth spreading through his veins even as she released him to throw her arms around her daddy.

"Did you...did you…"

"He's alive," Mr. Swan mumbled begrudgingly.

Emmett clapped his brother on the shoulder and pointedly eyed the guests trying to work out what was going on. "I think we should…"

Looking between the hundreds of people quickly deducing what had gone on—the blood all over Michael as his mother and Lauren led him inside told tall tales—and Isabella as she ducked her head and whispered to Mr. Swan, Edward couldn't help but frown and remember what she'd asked him earlier.

_I want to go. Let's go. Let's just...run away._

It was a stupid damn idea. Ridiculous. His nana would tell him he was nuttier than a fruitcake for even considerin' it, but the truth was...he was more than considerin' it. He was ready to get out of this godforsaken place where his life didn't feel like his own and the air stifled his every breath. Where people broke the hearts of the ones they were supposed to love and the person he loved more than anythin' belonged to someone else.

But this time, he didn't want to leave alone.

Isabella's tear-filled eyes caught his gaze. She mirrored his frown, ignoring whatever her daddy was saying, and he saw the exact second she saw what he was thinking.

_Let's go. Let's just...run away._

A thousand thoughts ran through their minds as they stared at each other. Years of friendship and a bond unbroken by time apart knotted them together.

_Let's just...run away._

There were things that would need dealing with. She'd just gotten married, for Christ's sake. But the open road...it was calling.

"Daddy," she suddenly said, looking up at him with renewed energy. "I need some fresh air."

"All right." Mr. Swan blew out a breath and took her arm. "I'll take you—"

"It's okay. Um, Edward will...Edward will come with me. Will you…"

Edward heard the wobble in her voice and piped up. "Mrs. Swan is probably worried."

Mr. Swan glanced between Edward and his daughter. His mustache twitched. For a moment, Edward thought he'd be sent to fetch Mrs. Swan. Mr. Swan's dark eyes were still black with anger. He didn't enjoy being snared in their depths. A long breath gusted from his lungs when he was released and Isabella became the object of their focus. "I'll fetch your momma and your sisters, then we'll go home together."

Isabella hesitated a moment before nodding, though she wouldn't meet her daddy's eyes. "Okay, Daddy." Stretching quickly onto her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love you, Daddy. Thank you."

"Love you, too, Bell. Be right back."

It didn't matter how soon he'd be back.

He'd barely taken a step before Isabella's small hand slipped into Edward's and they were speed-walking out of the ballroom.

They were in the elevator headed down to street level before Mr. Swan had reached his wife.

Isabella had unpinned her chignon, releasing it to tumble down her back as Edward slipped the helmet over her head before he'd found Rosalie stuffing marshmallows into her already-full cheeks.

Edward was straddling his Harley and holding out a tentatively hopeful hand to Isabella just as Mr. and Mrs. Swan found Alice making out with her boyfriend in a dark corner of the ballroom.

A sudden gust of wind blew through the parking lot, playing with the ends of Isabella's hair and stirring up dust from the gravel underfoot. Her chest heaved with a loud, shaky inhale; curiosity burned in his belly, but he waited for her to muster the courage to say what she needed to say.

"I need to tell you...I need to tell you somethin'. I never told you before. This is a stupid time for admittin' things, but...did you know I used to have a massive crush on you? Like, _scary _big."

Shaking his head, Edward chuckled even though his stomach felt as though it had leapt up into his throat. "What a crock of shit. You did not, Boots."

"I did!" she insisted. "I was always one deep breath away from passing out, you used to make me blush so much." As if to prove her point, Edward's fingers reaching for hers to tug her onto the bike lit a fire in her cheeks.

His eyes softened.

_Could she really have…_

He couldn't resist feeling the warmth beneath her skin; she burned his fingers, scalding him right down to the nerves. "Beautiful," Edward whispered.

One of these days he would tell her that he'd had the biggest crush on her, too—that he still did and it was stronger than ever.

That it was more than a crush, and almost more than he could bear.

But not today. Not the same day she ran out on her own wedding just hours after marrying Stanley-Newton.

He'd do it one sunny summer's day as they donned hideous, yellow plastic raincoats and stood in the misty spray filling the air below Niagara Falls. He'd murmur it at her closed-eyed smile and take pleasure from the way her eyes popped open to peer back at him. He'd grin and mutter a curse as she crashed against his chest and admitted that she thought she'd loved him ever since the day he nicknamed her 'Little Boots'.

For now, he'd settle for offering her a reassuring smile as he swallowed his nerves and gently tugged her onto the Harley. She came willingly, hitching up her skirts to straddle the bike. The warm weight of her at his back stirred up feelings he'd buried for years. Sucking in a deep breath, he started the engine and focused on the rumble below him instead of the turmoil ravaging his insides. Her small hands wound their way around his waist, locking over his stomach, and he wondered how he'd ever left her behind.

.

.

"_This is beyond lame."_

_Nodding and shrugging, Edward reminded her, "I told you it would be."_

_Isabella gave his shoulder a shove and huffed a sigh, kicking her feet over the edge of the wall. Sitting outside their high school, they took turns taking pulls of bourbon stolen from Edward's daddy's liquor cabinet out of a hipflask Isabella borrowed from Liberty._

_Eyeing Edward in his wrinkled white shirt and crooked, loosened tie, Isabella couldn't help but wonder… "How come you agreed to come with me tonight? I know a bunch of other girls asked. You never told me your reason."_

_Offering another shrug, Edward rubbed the back of his neck and took an extra mouthful before handing the flask back to her. "Why wouldn't I come with you?"_

"_I don't know…"_

_Edward hesitated before admitting, "Maggie Taylor asked me. I told her 'no'. Lissy Stewart, too."_

"_Why didn't you go with them? They're both gorgeous!"_

_Slipping off the wall to toe the dirt, Edward felt the tips of his ears flaming. Honestly, he wasn't sure why he'd told Maggie Taylor and Lissy Stewart to find other dates to their senior year spring formal._

_Although...glancing over his shoulder at his Little Boots in her pretty green dress and her favorite Dan Posts, he thought he might have an inkling as to why he'd refused the other girls, after all._

"_Boots, I_—"

"_Hey, Bell! Are you coming to the after party? We're going to Ryan's_—_Oh, hey, Edward." Sally Clare teetered to a stop in her too-high heels, her smile widening when she spotted Edward. "You can come, too, Edward."_

"_Boot_—_uh, Isabella and I are going to split, actually. I promised her dad I'd get her home before curfew."_

_He could feel Isabella's eyes on the side of his face as Sally tried to hide her disappointment, but she didn't argue._

"_Oh. Oh, okay. Another time, then?"_

"_Sure, another time."_

_Once Sally had gone back inside, Isabella hopped neatly from the wall and sauntered over to stand in front of Edward, a silly little smile playing on her lips. "So. We're splitting, are we? Where are we going?"_

_Think on your feet, Cullen…_

_Pretending as though he'd had a plan all along, Edward grinned and gestured toward the parking lot. As they walked side-by-side, he spotted a sign for Geoffrey's Diner. "I thought we could go split a milkshake before we head home. The diner will be open until late."_

"_Ooh, I'm gonna get the Oreo shake. It's crazy good."_

"_You and your sugar addiction," Edward chuckled as they reached the bike shed. His trusty bicycle waited patiently. "Maybe that should be your nickname instead of 'Boots'."_

_Isabella shook her head and released a light, lilting laugh that made him grin wider. "I much prefer 'Boots' if it's all the same to you." Eyeing the bike as he slung a long leg over the frame, she raised a single eyebrow. "Are you really planning to take me home on that thing? It's like, ten years old."_

_With a roll of his eyes, Edward corrected her. "It's four, actually." The bourbon was starting to kick in by now, its heat burning through his veins_—_and his inhibitions. Uncharacteristically bold, Edward raised an eyebrow and eyed her with clear challenge._

"_C'mon, sugar. You know you want to wrap your thighs around this beast."_

_She smirked, cocking her head like a disobedient little puppy_—_and a goddamn adorable one, at that. "And if I said that I don't?"_

_He barked a laugh, rolling up his shirtsleeves. "Quit wasting my time, Little Boots. Get that cute butt over here. The open road is callin'."_

_Once again, her laughter rang out. This time, she grinned right back at him and hitched up her dress so she could join him on the bike. Not for the first time, the pegs he'd fixed to the rear wheels came in handy. She held onto her dress with one hand and hung onto his shoulder with the other as he carefully set off. By the time they made it to the diner, she'd switched to clinging to his shoulders to keep herself from swinging around every time he turned._

_Despite the chill to the air and the ache that had quickly taken over his legs from standing and peddling with extra weight on the back, Edward couldn't stifle the smile that remained on his face for the rest of the night._

_._

.

"Are you ready?" He called over the growl of the bike, lightly pressing his fingertips to the back of her hand and praying she was sure of this—sure of him. She twisted her wrist, twining their fingers together before pressing her cheek against his shoulder blades.

"Please, let's just go."

"Well, all righty then."

With the sun rapidly fading at their backs and the warm summer breeze blowing them away from a town which hosted almost as many bad memories as good, Edward kicked the stand and carefully peeled out of the parking lot. Neither of them saw the other Swans as they stepped out onto the hotel steps in time to see Harley fly away; in time to see Isabella's skirts flaring behind her and the two-finger salute Edward shot in his brother's direction.

Emmett jogged across the lot, his chest heaving as a smile split his face in two. "Mr. Swan, Mrs. Swan...your daughter...Libby's havin' the baby. Over there, in the truck."


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, here it is. The last installment. I know I promised it would be up a few days ago but I realised that I'd missed some loose ends and I wanted to get them all tied up nicely before I hit 'complete' on this baby. It's a little longer than planned, but c'est la vie. That seems to be how these things go with me *facepalm***

**I hope you've enjoyed this little tale as much as I've enjoyed writing it! I sort of love Little Boots and her Biker Boy, so I won't rule out a futuretake or two ;)**

**Thank you to **annaharding** for always stepping up and beta'ing for me! I've tinkered with this A TONNE since she last looked at it, but I've got an itchy 'post chapter' finger so I'm posting without having her look it over again. All mistakes (and there may be a lot of 'em) are mine. Standard disclaimer applies, only the OG characters are mine.**

* * *

**Little Boots & Biker Boy**

.

"Quick, we're gonna miss it!" Isabella's voice crackled through the headset inside his helmet.

Edward barked a laugh and patted her arm around his stomach before planting both hands on the handlebars and speeding up slightly. The speedometer inched a fraction higher on the dial. Isabella shook her head but didn't argue. There was precious cargo on this bike, after all.

Despite Edward's hesitance to speed with her on the back, they made it to the hospital in just a few more minutes. Their laughter echoed off the walls as they jogged hand-in-hand through the halls, peeling off layers of protective clothing as they went.

"_There _you are!" Rosalie crowed when they reached the waiting area. Several more sets of eyes swivelled in their direction. Alice and her boyfriend, Jasper, who were as in love as ever and had apparently decided to move in together in the fall. She was done living with his somewhat hippy parents, according to their momma.

Rosalie, whose attention span lasted all of five seconds before she returned her attention to the Texans game on the small TV in the corner. Isabella and Edward were great, but they weren't Texans level.

"Meemaw." Isabella dumped her helmet and jacket on a chair and darted into her grandmother's arms, tears gathering in her eyes as she sucked in the familiar scent of her perfume and laundry detergent.

"My sweet honey pie." Cupping her face, Meemaw Swan beamed brighter than the sun as she wiped under Isabella's eyes. Her thin gray eyebrows narrowed slightly. "Are you well, child?"

"I'm perfect, Meemaw," Isabella promised, waving Edward over. "Come say hi, Edward."

"Hello, Mrs. Swan."

"Oh, no. How many times have I got to tell you, son? It's 'Meemaw' or nothing at all. I don't want to get into a knock down drag out over this, ya hear me?"

Isabella couldn't help but laugh at Edward's bashful, rosy-cheeked, crooked grin.

"Yes, Ma'am—I mean, _Meemaw_."

The door flew open, then, to reveal a bright-eyed, red-faced Charles as he panted, "It's a boy!"

Cheers filled the room before his wife joined him a few moments later. "_And_ a girl!"

"Wait..._what_?"

That was Emmett. He stood from his chair in the corner, where he'd been cradling a little girl with white-blonde curls and the biggest blue eyes. The baby startled before falling right back to sleep against his shoulder. "A boy..._and_ a girl?"

Lily shook her head in the seat beside him with a long-suffering smile. "Volume control, hon."

"Yes!" Renee cried with tears in her eyes and a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. "It's twins! They kept it a secret all this time...can you believe it?" Only then did she spot the two newest arrivals—the only people newer to Houston than the surprise twins. "Oh! You made it!"

Before they knew it, Edward and Isabella were wrapped up in Renee's arms and being rocked side-to-side. "Of course we made it. We wouldn't miss it for the world."

Pulling back to look at them both in turn, Renee sighed with sheer contentment. "Come, see your sister. She'll be so pleased."

"I'll wait here," Edward said softly, pointing at his brother. "We've got plenty to catch up on. Have some time with Libby and the youngins."

"All right. I won't be long." Stretching up onto her tiptoes, she planted a smacking kiss on his cheek before following her momma down the hall into the room signposted 'Cheney'. They waited outside for a minute or two, then let themselves in once the nurse stepped out and gave them the go ahead.

"Is this our baby?"

Eric chuckled tiredly, stroking the dark head of hair of the baby cradled in Liberty's left arm. "Yeah, buddy." He reached over and caressed the rosy cheek of the baby in his wife's other arm, next. "This one, too."

_God, they're so darn cute._

"Look who's here," Renee said, too excited to wait to be noticed. She laughed when Liberty let out a squeal that startled her newborns and the little boy on the bed. He bounced right down to run into his aunt's arms.

"Aunt Issy!"

Swinging the boy around before smothering his chubby face in noisy kisses, Isabella breathed him in. "I've missed you, Jamie."

"I misseded you also, Aunt Issy," he told her seriously, smushing her cheeks together with his pudgy palms. Now three-years-old and a whole lot bigger than the last time she'd seen him, Jamie was the spitting image of his father from his jet-black hair to his amber eyes. He was growing so fast.

"_Missed_," Eric corrected gently, smiling at his sister-in-law as he perched on the edge of Liberty's bed. "Hey, Bell. It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you guys, too." Carrying Jamie over to the bed, she carefully leaned in to kiss her sister's sweaty forehead before getting a good look at the new twins. They both had thick, dark hair, but the baby bundled in pink had locks a shade lighter than the one swaddled in blue.

"She has Swan hair, doesn't she?"

"She does." Shaking her head, Isabella admitted, "I can't believe you guys kept this a secret! _Two _babies...I don't know if I'd have believed you, anyway!"

"It was way too much fun," Liberty told her, heaving a long sigh as she tried to adjust herself in the bed. "Here, take Ethan. He weighs a ton already."

"Ethan…" Tears weighted Renee's eyelashes as she reached out to cradle the boy's head once he rested comfortably in Isabella's arms.

"After Papaw," Isabella murmured, gazing at the sleeping baby's face.

Losing Papaw last year had just about killed her, especially as she hadn't been able to make it back in time for the funeral. They'd been checking in once every week or so, so by the time they found out the news, it was too late to get a flight home in time. It made her happy to see him honored in this way, though. He'd have been delighted to have a little Ethan in the family.

"And this little lady is Abigail," Eric said, checking with Liberty with a questioning look before clarifying, "Abigail Isabella. We'd like you to be her godmother, Bell, if you'll agree."

"Oh…" Heat rushed to color Isabella's cheeks as tears rushed to tumble over her face. She could feel the eyes of her sister, brother-in-law, and momma on her as she tried to dash them away while cradling her nephew. "I'd be honored, guys! That's, gosh...it's so lovely of you to ask!"

Liberty chewed her lip before asking, "Bell…are you—"

"Nana, can I have some crackers now? I've been a good boy!"

Safe for now, Isabella sat in the chair beside the bed and silently thanked Jamie for distracting everybody as she discreetly touched her fingertips to her still-flat belly.

**~ oOo ~**

It wasn't long before the masses descended, Rosalie haughtily demanding that she be allowed to hold the babies before anybody else. Everyone laughed when baby Ethan almost immediately let out a loud fart in her lap.

"That's my boy," Rosalie praised, kissing his head. "I'm gonna teach you all the fun stuff. We'll start with burpin' the alphabet—"

"You'll do no such thing, Miss Ma'am," Renee warned with a long-suffering shake of her head, but a fond smile.

Once he'd gotten a chance to hold Ethan and Abigail, Edward excused himself to fetch drinks from the vending machines down the hall. When he hadn't returned after a few minutes, Isabella left her dad crying over his new grandbabies and went searching.

"...honestly expect me to believe she stayed with _you_?"

The familiar voice and ensuing laugh made her skin crawl as she reached the end of the corridor. Pausing and peering around the corner, Isabella felt her stomach drop.

Michael.

He looked...worse for wear. Gone was his usual suit and tie—instead, he wore work jeans and a t-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. She wasn't completely surprised. The gossip train reached far-flung corners of the world when it carried news of her cheating ex-husband, so it seemed.

The day after the wedding, once she'd been to meet baby Jamie, Isabella had climbed on the back of Edward's Harley and they'd set off with the clothes on their backs and the money Isabella has stashed in her bedroom closet. In the three years since, they'd ridden through all fifty states—some twice or three times. They'd also spent time in Southern America before leaving the bike in storage and flying into Europe to play tourist there.

They were sitting on a rocky outcrop in Nevada, the Grand Canyon spread out before them, when they got the call that Lauren was pregnant. It was just ten weeks after the wedding, which meant she'd been carrying his baby the day he married Isabella.

It was six weeks later when Liberty called with unbridled glee to tell Isabella and Edward that she was pregnant with triplets.

Clenching her fists at her sides, Isabella breathed out a long, deep breath before stepping around the corner. Loosening her hands, she slipped the fingers of one between Edward's and let her left hand reach up to toy with the necklace hanging against her chest. She saw the surprise leeching from Michael's eyes as disappointment took its place. There was no missing the ring on the third finger of her left hand; the ring she and Edward had hunted for in the sand after she threw herself at him and knocked it away. Even in the overworked fluorescents in the hospital corridor, the sapphire dazzled.

"Isabella," Michael finally sighed. The fight visibly drained from him as Isabella took in the sleep-deprived shell of a man he'd turned into. Dark circles underlined his eyes and his voice held none of the confidence it used to. "So it's true."

Tilting her head to gaze up at Edward's strong jaw and blank expression, she couldn't help but smile. It was automatic. As easy as breathing.

"We're very happy together," she confirmed. "I guess congratulations are in order…"

Michael's grimace said it all. It also made Isabella's chest hurt, despite everything. It had taken getting married to Michael to see how much of a tool he could be. She wondered if Lauren had seen it yet. If she had, she was clearly overlooking it. "Another girl."

_Four daughters. _He had four daughters and a wife to support on a bus driver's salary. It didn't take a genius to figure out that his job with Isabella's father had flown off the table, and a scandal like the one Michael caused wasn't something the senator would ever condone. With two-year-old triplets at home and now a newborn, Michael had to be regretting the decisions he'd made.

Isabella squeezed Edward's hand as he barked a laugh, but she was certain they were on the same wavelength.

"Let's hope those girls find better men than their momma settled for," Edward mused, releasing Isabella's hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders. Michael, apparently, had nothing to say. Pressing a kiss against Isabella's hair, Edward turned to lead her back to Liberty's room. "C'mon, Boots. Let's get outta here."

**~ oOo ~**

Hours later, on the lawn where they'd sold lemonade and made mud pies as children, Edward and Isabella rested on their backs and gazed up at the stars.

"Twins. I still can't believe it," Edward whispered, snorting a laugh.

Butterflies fluttered in Isabella's stomach—well, butterflies or something...some_one_...else.

"I know." Rolling her head to face his profile, she admired his strong nose, his defined jaw. He turned to peer at her and she stared into his dazzling jade eyes, wondering whose genes were stronger between the two of them. "Would you like twins?"

His brows furrowed, a smirk dancing on his lips. He didn't understand. "Would I _like_ them? I mean, sure, I guess. I bet it'd be fun, but expensive as heck and a whole lotta work. I don't know if I envy Libby and Eric the sleepless nights and endless diapers they've got ahead of 'em. Why?"

Frowning, she faced the sky once more and rolled her words around on her tongue. She'd been keeping this secret for so long, she wasn't sure it would come out. Her hands fidgeted with the grass at her sides and her heart sped up as she sucked in a breath.

"I'm...we're pregnant, Edward."

Crickets.

Literally, _crickets_ chirped for an endless second before Edward lifted and rolled himself over her on hands and knees. His hair hung down over his forehead; it had been a while since he'd let her cut it. If the beautiful grin on his face didn't tell her he was happy, the tears that quickly filled his eyes would have. Edward was a happy crier. It was something she'd discovered during their three years on the road together.

After taking off on the back of his Harley almost four years ago, Isabella had learned all about her Biker Boy as he was now—a man.

She'd learned that liked his toast burnt but his coffee weaker than a newborn calf. He'd shown her that he was soft as marshmallows but had the heart of a lion. They'd spent a month teaching English to kids in an African school earlier that year and she'd watched happy tears pour over his cheeks when the children sang them a song to say 'thank you' before they left to move onto the next place.

He'd shown her what respect in a relationship looked like, and taught her about mutuality between partners.

Of course, some things hadn't changed. He still teased her, called her 'Little Boots', and drove his Harley everywhere possible. He still showered her with attention and affection, showed her that she was his best friend and her opinions held weight with him.

He showed her every day that she was the love of his life, his Northstar, his guiding light.

And he was hers.

He had been ever since that balmy July day at the foot of Niagara Falls when he'd whispered that he loved her and grinned at her surprised goldfish impression. She'd known it before, of course. A part of her had always loved him—but now it was every part. Every atom that made up her body, every breath, every beat of her heart, it belonged to him, as his belonged to her.

And now…

"We're having a baby?"

"Yes," Isabella laughed tearfully, wiping the moisture from his face with her thumbs. "We're having a baby, Biker Boy. Are you ready?"

She saw it, the memory of him asking her that very question three and a half years ago, passing through his mind's eye. Then she saw the memories they'd made since; the wonderful times they'd shared and the amazing things they'd experienced.

The life they'd led. Together.

"With you?" Edward sighed and pressed their foreheads together, one hand snaking up to tickle her belly under the hem of her shirt. "God...I'm ready for it all. We can take on the world, you an' me. Little Boots and Biker Boy."

With the moon at his back casting his face in glorious shadows, and the warmth of her love and their wonderful news spreading through his body, Edward couldn't help himself. He slid a hand under her head and lowered himself to hover lay beside her. His free hand caressed her still-flat belly while he sealed the deal with a kiss that stole her breath.

**~ oOo ~**

_**1 year later…**_

A warm breeze blew in off the ocean, the sun beating gently down as a group gathered on the sand. A small, four-post structure had been erected near the water's edge and draped with gossamer curtains. The sweet, light scent of the flowers attached to the posts mingled with the salty sea air drifting inland.

Laughter gave way to murmurs and gasps of appreciation as a trio slowly made their way down the beach, the glorious start of sunset their backdrop. Gazing down at his soon-to-be wife, Edward flashed her a broad grin and gently pulled her to a stop. One of his hands rested at her hip while the other came up to caress the dark shock of hair on their six-month-old son's head.

Huck Christopher Cullen screamed his way into their lives, four weeks early, on the side of the road somewhere a little south of Rio. He'd spent the next six months travelling through Argentina, Chile, and Peru before heading north into Mexico.

There, he'd get to see his parents finally tie the knot.

"I love you," Edward murmured, taking the moment to just...be.

Isabella's smile was radiant as she stroked his beard-covered jaw and held their son close to her chest. "I love you. And _we_ love _you_."

Huck's giggles as Isabella and Edward buried their faces in his neck to kiss him silly lit his parents' faces like fireworks on the Fourth of July. People had questioned their wandering when Huck was born, but he was the most content, chilled baby. He'd seen more countries in his short half a year than most people in their lifetime.

"What're you waitin' for? The champagne's gettin' cold!" Emmett hollered from a little further down the beach.

Chuckling, Edward linked his fingers with Isabella's and they continued toward the rest of their family.

On one side of the small, makeshift aisle, Mr. and Mrs. Swan—or Charlie and Renee as they'd insisted he call them—stood beside Meemaw and Granny. The latter two members of Isabella's family had flown out especially, breaking their rule to never leave Texas. Carlisle and Esme were on Granny's other side, their arms full of grandchildren. Emmett and Lily had blessed them with a grandchild for each set of arms—four-year-old Tony and two-year-old Callie. Their continued presence in Texas kept Carlisle and Esme from pitching a total fit when Edward and Isabella admitted they had no immediate plans to settle down when they announced their pregnancy with Huck.

Alice and Jasper stood on the other side of the aisle with their arms around each other and their newly-engaged joy evident in the width of their smiles. As soon as Alice had graduated two weeks ago, she and Jasper had flown out to spend some time with Isabella, Edward, and Huck before the wedding. As of that moment, they had no immediate plans to leave. With Jasper's inheritance having matured the past fall, they had more than enough means to hold off on diving into their careers for at least a few years. If they were careful, they could drag it out even longer. They were holding off on making any hard and fast decisions and enjoying the family time.

Now twelve, Rosalie still prefered dungarees over dresses, but she'd given in after being promised as much ice cream and tacos as she could eat. Renee hadn't been happy about that, but Edward had laughed and clapped his future father-in-law on the shoulder and wished him all the luck in the world. Standing beside her older sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law, Rosalie toed the sand and noisily popped gum.

Rounding out the group were Liberty, Eric, and their ever-growing brood. Now four, Jamie often took it upon himself to parent his younger brother and sister. Ethan and Abigail celebrated their first birthday three weeks ago but had been on their feet for the past three months; Jamie had his work cut out for him, that was for sure, especially with baby number four—a girl this time to even the numbers—now on the way.

As they neared their family, Edward and Isabella slowed to cast each other one last smile. It said everything they told each other often.

_I love you._

_I'm yours_—_always._

_We can do anything as long as we're together._

_Home is where the heart is, and my heart is always with you._

And the words engraved inside the rings they'd soon exchange—_it's always been you_.

It took Isabella a while to realize the truth in them, but once she'd seen it, there was no going back.

It had always been Edward.

The celebrant soon joined them. His voice droned in a relaxing, low cadence as Edward tuned him out and simply gazed at his Little Boots and Huck, the two most important people in his life. They'd decided to include a few Mexican wedding traditions in their ceremony, so Edward smiled as the celebrant draped a lasso around Isabella's neck before hanging it around his, too. They'd opted for simple white—white ribbon and pretty white flowers. Edward had no idea what kind they were, but their scent was light and fresh.

He soaked in the sounds of the sea lapping at the shore just feet away, the gulls overhead, and the quiet cries of his momma and almost-mother-in-law. Their handkerchiefs were quickly switched out for those in their husbands' pockets, and Edward was reminded of a quote his pa once told him.

He said that a man should always keep two handkerchiefs. The one in his back pocket was for him, while the one in his breast pocket was for his lady.

Finally, _finally_, Edward felt his whole world slot into place as he and Isabella said their 'I dos' and were declared man and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen.

Leaning in to caress his son's back with one hand and cradle his wife's head with the other, Edward smiled against Isabella's lips and murmured, "My Little Boots."

After a tearful laugh, Isabella cupped his face and whispered, "My Biker Boy."

**~ oOo ~**

Later, after a delicious tapas meal with their nearest and dearest on the deck of their rental home, Isabella found herself sans both husband and son.

"I'll be right back," she told Liberty, pushing away from the table and heading down the wooden steps to the beach. They'd picked this house for two reasons—it was large enough to accomodate their family, and it had a beautiful view of the ocean. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Isabella spotted Edward and Huck a little ways along the shore. Making her way across the sand, she realized they weren't alone.

One of the stray dogs on the island had taken a liking to them over the last couple of weeks. She had a fluffy white and tan coat that looked as though it would be pretty if she had a long bath and a good brush. She also had beautiful sandy colored eyes that seemed to stare right into the soul of anyone who gave her any attention. Slowly, she was getting braver. Isabella smiled as the dog edged closer to Edward and Huck, who, at first glance, seemed to be ignorant of her presence.

However, when Isabella joined them, Edward shot her a giddy smile and murmured, "She's getting braver. She's only about ten feet away, now."

"I know." Shaking her head, Isabella wondered how long it would be before the dog moved into the house with them. She wondered if she'd be confident enough to make the leap from stray to family dog before they packed up and moved on…

A soft nudge in her abdomen made her wonder something else—_would_ they move on? They'd planned to continent hop into Africa for their extended honeymoon, but the sickness she'd been feeling for the past six weeks coupled with the butterfly-type movements she'd felt the last few days would likely put that on hold. Isabella wasn't sure why she was nervous to tell Edward that they were adding another baby to their family. She was putting it down to a few things, most notably the fact that Huck was only six months old and she was guessing that she had to be at least a few months pregnant to be feeling movements. They'd have to postpone their trip for at least a year or so, possibly longer. Another baby meant another mouth to feed, a body to clothe. It was an added expense and though they didn't worry for money, not really, it was definitely something to consider. They weren't rich by any means and babies were expensive.

Then Huck let out a screech and splashed his hands in the shallow ocean and Isabella melted. She saw the way Edward gazed at their son; the way he fawned over him with gentle hands and soothing words. He'd never been anything but a wonderful father. They both messed up—all parents do—but he'd thrown himself into fatherhood with the same fervor as everything else he did.

He'd do the same for this baby, if only she could get the words out to tell him it even existed.

"C'mon, Boots. Let's go get some dessert."

Edward lifted Huck from the sand and lead Isabella back toward the house. The stray followed at a distance before settling herself at the foot of the stairs; she never came up, always remaining on the sand below the house. Isabella made a mental note to bring some leftovers down for her.

Back with their family, Edward, Isabella, and Huck took their places in the center of the long table. The wine and beer had been flowing, the younger children all safely tucked up in bed. Huck would join them shortly, but Isabella was enjoying his sleepy smiles too much to insist he go to bed just yet.

"We organized a traditional cake for you," Emmett told them with glee. Lily carried it outside on a big platter, setting it right in front of the newlyweds. "It's got pineapple, coconuts, nuts, a healthy dose of rum...all the good stuff." Huck reached out with greedy hands, babbling nonsense as the breeze wafted the smell of fruit and booze in Isabella's direction.

"_Oh, God._"

"Looks great, Em! Thanks, hon." Edward hadn't noticed his wife's suddenly pinched expression, but he couldn't miss her soft but firm, "I can't eat that."

Eyeing her in question, he angled Huck away from the cake. "Why not? You love it."

Clasping her trembling hands over her stomach, Isabella breathed, "I'm pregnant. We're having another baby."

The cake was forgotten as hoots and hollers spread around the table. Edward scooped her from her seat with his free arm to swing both his wife and son through the air. The wide, ear-to-ear grin on his face made the momentary nausea worth it. "We're havin' another baby?"

Isabella nodded, tears spilling from her eyes. "We're havin' another baby."

"No, Ma'am. You're twelve-years-old—too young for rum," Renee quietly chastised Rosalie, slapping her hand away from the rum-soaked dessert that forced Isabella's declaration.

"Sorry, squirt," Emmett crowed, tugging the cake over to his side of the table. "Looks like I'll have to step up and take one for the team."

Playful chaos broke out as people fought over the cake, but in the midst of it all, the new Mr. and Mrs. Cullen gazed into each other's tearful eyes over the head of their son and quietly celebrated the existence of yet another member of their family.

**~ oOo ~**

In the months to come, they welcomed not one, but two new girls. Sandy finally became an official member of the Cullen clan one summer's day a few weeks after the wedding. A campfire spreading through the brush would have destroyed the house and likely the family inside had Sandy not braved the steps to bark until Edward woke and realized what was going on. Every night since, she'd gotten closer and closer to the house until finally, she began sleeping at the foot of Edward and Isabella's bed.

Five months later, Huck became a big brother to baby Nova Bell. She came into the world just as loudly as her brother and completed the family in ways none of them could ever have predicted. As wild as Huck was calm, Nova was the piece they hadn't known was missing until she arrived.

Now a family of five, including the ever-faithful Sandy, Edward and Isabella decided it was time to put down some roots. They bought the beachside house—much to the disappointment of their parents back in Texas—and built a garage for their camper van and Edward's Harley.

Under the hot Mexican sun, Isabella had little use for her trusty Dan Posts. They, along with the less-than-practical Harley, were relegated to the garage, and on days when diapers, screaming babies, and married life took their toll, Edward and Isabella found themselves sitting on the floor staring at them. Little boots beside a gleaming bike.

Because no matter where life took them, or what challenges came their way, they would always be Little Boots and Biker Boy at heart; a curly-haired little girl in her sparkly cowboy boots and the toad-wielding boy whose tire tracks would follow her to the ends of the Earth.


End file.
